


Just Like Heaven

by Zphal



Category: Just Like Heaven (2005), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Inspired by a Movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zphal/pseuds/Zphal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crossover fanfiction that follows the storyline of "Just Like Heaven" with characters from the Marvel Movie Universe.  With Bruce Banner as David Abbott and Tony Stark as Elizabeth Masterson; Pepper Potts, JARVIS, Phil Coulson, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Rhodey, and Justin Hammer all make an appearance as well.  It is an AU set after the events of Iron Man 2 but before the events of The Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue is adapted from the actual movie script, which can be found here: http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/j/just-like-heaven-script-transcript.html

The Renewable Energy World Conference and Expo of North America was in abundant attendance. Thousands of scientists and researchers from around the globe had flown in to participate in the numerous exhibits, demonstrations, and presentations the conference had to offer. Along with a swath of the press... reporters and journalists from well-known magazines and newspapers looking to capitalize on a good story for their featured articles and front page. Alternative energy was a hot topic nowadays, and a burgeoning field for intrepid minds looking to 'engineer a sustainable future' and 'change the world for the better' (to name a few of the buzzphrases being thrown around). Not to be excluded from the guestlist was Anthony Stark of Stark Industries.

He'd reserved his entire weekend for this-- from the conference's opening ceremonies to its closing remarks. Usually he wasn't so punctual, especially with anything that had specific dates or specific times-- as far as he was concerned, things ought to wait for him, he was Tony Stark after all-- but he was a man on a mission. His goal was to capitalize on one of his more recently developed prototypes, by selling it off to one of the top CEOs attending the conference. That meant a lot of schmoozing. Good schmoozing was an art-- an art Tony was rather proficient in, which was why he predicted it would only be a couple more hours until he got his answer from Dr. Walsh, head of ABI Energy Inc, and was walking out with a crisp check for several thousands of dollars.

For now, however, he'd excused himself from the conference halls to get a drink at the bar in the adjoining hotel and loosen up for a bit. All work and no play made Jack a dull boy, after all. And if there was one thing Tony refused to be, it was dull.

He was sitting at the bar when he felt a tap on his left shoulder. Tony turned around on his barstool, lips still glued to the conical glass of his martini, but when he saw who it was, his eyes lit up. "Oh hey, Rhodey! What are you still doin' here? You want a drink? I can buy you a drink," he immediately offered, raising his hand to signal the bartender over.

"No, I consider being here as 'on-the-job'," the decorated colonel declined. His posture remained erect and serious as he folded his arms and tipped his head. "Though I'd ask you the same thing, Tony. How long have you been here?"

Stark scrunched up the left side of his face in consideration. "Probably since six?" he gave an estimate, shrugging his shoulder.

"This morning?" Rhodey asked incredulously.

Tony shook his head, setting the alcoholic beverage down on the counter. "Yesterday morning," he clarified.

This had the U.S. Marine reeling. "Tony, go home," he said in an authoritative voice, looking down at him disapprovingly. As if _that_ could convince Stark. Please, a little sleep deprivation was nothing he couldn't handle.

Tony pointed a finger at him. "That's _not_ going to sell my prototype to Walsh." He lifted his martini glass and took another sip.

"Neither is losing track of time and passing out at the bar," Rhodey shot back. "You _do_ know his Q &A session is starting in six minutes, right?"

The innovator set his drink down roughly, sloshing the remaining liquid nearly out of the glass. "You're kidding me?" He spied a quick glance at the time displayed on his phone-- Rhodey wasn't kidding. "Son of a bitch." He had to get back there. Pronto. Indiscriminantly he pulled some cash out his wallet, not particularly paying attention to the denomination, and slapped it down on the counter to cover his beverage. He shoved said drink off onto his friend hastily. "Thanks," he imparted appreciatively, hurrying off in the direction of the meeting room, running his hand through his hair to fix it and tightening his tie around his neck as he went.

The colonel just chuckled and shook his head before tipping the martini back and finishing it.

 

The Q&A went swimmingly (well save for the fact he'd been just a couple of minutes late and missed a few of the questions in the beginning), but Tony knew he had made an excellent impression with Walsh. He rubbed his palms together pleasedly, mentally clapping himself on the back as the session let out and the crowd began to get out of their chairs and disperse. Next step, get alone with the CEO and make it happen. Maybe he'd even make it back to Malibu in time for a dinner celebration with Pepper!

Speak of the devil, his cell began jingling away to AC/DC's Love Song, the ringtone he'd set for her quite some time ago when they started dating. The billionaire fished the device out of his pocket and quickly put it to his ear. "Hey, Pep," he greeted cheerfully.

"You haven't forgotten, have you?" came immediate chastising words.

"I-- what? No, of course not," Tony reassured her, trying to remember what the hell it was she was referring to. He started pacing the lobby near the refreshment table, looking inconspicuous as people milled around him.

"Good. Because this guy is great. He could be great for Stark Industries."

Tony licked his lips with a wince. "Yeah… who exactly?"

"You _did_ forget," Pepper's voice got that much higher with her increasing frustration. "You know, Tony, it wasn't easy to get this guy to agree to see you. He doesn't do this kind of thing, like _ever_."

The innovator gnawed his lower lip a bit. "I hope he has a good sense of humor, I can't stand people who don't have a good sense of humor," he tried to lighten the mood, feeling a little hen-pecked. So much for that celebration dinner. Yeesh. He snagged a doughnut from the table.

"I haven't actually met him in person myself, but I am not going to let you stand him up," his secretary went on. "He's arriving in LAX at 8:30, gate 21A. You better show up."

"I'll be there," Tony promised, hoping it would get her off his case. He paused and looked around to make sure he wasn't in earshot. "I'm just closing this deal with Dr. Walsh." He took a bite of the frosted pastry to keep from saying anything more that might get him in trouble.

"Don't you dare. Your prototype can wait," she spoke reprimandingly. "I'm just doing my job, Tony. But you're making it difficult."

The engineer spoke through a full mouth of partially-chewed dough. "I am completely capable of making business connections on my own," he asserted, though it was probably a mistake to argue with Pepper. She always won.

"Sure, you are. Just like you almost sold several thousand shares to those fraudulent Chinese businessmen in Norway last April."

Pastry dough lodged in his throat and he gave a cough to shake it loose. Like he said, mistake. "Hey, now… that was… it wasn't my fault…" Stark started to try and defend himself.

"Eight-thirty, Tony." 

Quickly he switched gears. "Hey, do you think maybe we could do like some kind of late-night dinner thing--" he began to suggest, gesturing with his half a doughnut in the air out in front of him.

"I have another call," Pepper said abruptly, and like that she hung up.

"Well, I guess that's a no," Tony rolled his eyes and crammed his cell back into his slacks. He glanced around the conference room and let out an even more exasperated huff when he found that Dr. Walsh was nowhere in sight-- the CEO had exited some time during the telephone call and now he'd have to spend time trying to hunt him down and isolate him to get this deal pushed through. No way he was leaving here empty-handed. Tony stuffed the remainder of his doughnut into his mouth, licking his fingertips, and began the search.

 

The only person who was arguably hounding Dr. Walsh more than himself was Justin Hammer, rival weapons manufacturer and overall general nuisance. What the sub-par innovator (if you could call him that) was doing at a Renewable Energy conference was questionable, unless you knew a little bit more about the guy. Like the fact Hammer desperately desired to beat Tony at his own game, which had expanded considerably after he'd turned Stark Industries in it's 'new direction' a couple years ago. So, naturally, he was here to attempt to sell _his_ clean energy prototype (which was really a flimsy approximation of what Tony had whipped up) to ABI Energy Inc. and steal his 'glory'. At any rate, Tony certainly wasn't worried; he set the bar high and no way was Hammer getting over it in a million lifetimes.

Though it was the sound of the man's annoying droning voice that led him to Walsh, so he had to thank the guy for that.

"And what I'm saying is, the amount of power this baby puts out will make you just light up-- you get what I'm saying here? Do ya? This energy is so clean, it would put hydrogen peroxide to shame."

The engineer sidled right in beside the two, interrupting the would-be sales pitch. "Hey, what are you guys talking about?" he flashed Hammer a big did-you-miss-me? Tony Stark grin.

Justin made a visibly disgusted face, which meant he'd successfully annoyed him just the right amount.

Walsh, who was a greying man with a large nose and several benign melanoma dotting his skin, regarded him over the thick lenses of his spectacles. "Actually, I was needing someone to introduce me at the beginning of the tomorrow morning's demonstration," he said.

Tony opened his mouth to volunteer but hesitated. He'd just promised Pepper he wouldn't miss his engagement later that evening and there was probably no way he could zip there and back in time to…

"I'd just absolutely love to have that honor," Justin gushed. When Hammer laid it on, by God, he laid it on thick. Jeez, did anyone _not_ find this guy annoying? His own mother probably got sick of his shameless sucking up.

"Alright, you got it," Walsh nodded. Tony felt his ears droop; he would have jumped on the opportunity if he could have! "You probably ought to get started writing it," the CEO recommended. "I want it to be good."

"Oh. Oh yeah, yeah, of course. I am," Hammer motioned at his head. "Writing it, that is. Right now, up in my head. I'll go write it down… on paper… and be right back. Don't go anywhere." And with that the blabber-mouthed development manager hurried away.

Walsh leaned in towards Tony with a slightly craven look on his wizened features. "Come on, let's hurry and find somewhere else to talk."

Tony grinned like a cheshire cat. Dr. Walsh was more clever than he gave the old guy credit; for all he knew there _wasn't_ any morning introduction. He followed the CEO along into a small meeting room with a long table and several chairs. The older fellow shut the door behind them to grant them privacy. 'This is it,' Tony thought to himself, 'that prototype is as good as sold!'

"I was going to wait till tomorrow, but I honestly can't take any more of Mr. Hammer's pushing, so I've made my decision early. ABI Energy Inc. would like to purchase your prototype. As _soon_ as possible," Dr. Walsh said.

Tony did a couple of mental backflips for joy. "Well thank you, sir," he extended his palm for a handshake which the CEO took. "As soon as possible? Did you want to…?" he looked around. "Right now?"

Walsh nodded and beckoned over a woman from his company who was standing nearby to serve as a notary. About an hour later they had all the necessary paperwork filled out, signed and dated and sent by fax machine back to Malibu (Tony would be making sure Pepper got to look over it and do the final processing). Tony Stark grinned down at the seven digit number on the check and tucked it away in the pocket on the inside of his suitcoat, safe and sound. "Thanks again, Dr. Walsh, sir," he spoke appreciatively, absolutely smitten with himself.

"You've earned it," Walsh said, holding onto the lapels of his jacket. "Unlike some others, you spend more time being concerned with your product's performance than kissing my ass." Tony felt a laugh bubble up in his chest. "A risky move, but I like it," the older man finished.

"There's a lot more where that came from," Tony said, mouth going into overdrive. "I've been making a lot of progress on--"

"Mr. Stark," the CEO interrupted to garner his attention.

He blinked. "Yeah?"

"Get a move on. You don't want to leave your engagement stranded at the airport." Tony's face metamorphized in a look of pure 'how did you…?', floundering. Walsh winked at him as he turned to go. "I know _all_."

 

It was as he was on his way out of the convention that he stumbled into Hammer, who was standing near the front entrance. As much as he might enjoy lording it over the other technology developer that he'd gotten Walsh's funding (including, but not limited to, dangling his signed check in front of Hammer's gawking face), he didn't have a whole lot of time to spare to get back to California. Tony started to walk past him but before he could get out the entrance doors, the man had already caught sight of him and approached.

"Hey, congratulations on the sale," Justin said with a smile that was too wide for his face to be genuine.

"Oh yeah, thanks--" he started to say but Hammer abruptly cut him off.

"My prototype was too advanced to go into production anyway. Would've been too much of a technological leap." He gestured with his hands and arms almost as if he were conducting an orchestra. "Would've shocked the face of science, thrown it out of balance in some kind of freaky-deaky mis-equilibrium."

"Right," Tony had to try to keep his face from screwing up with amusement at the preponderance of bullshit. "Well, that's good then."

"It's _great_ ," Hammer said, emphasizing the word harshly though nearly-grit teeth. "It's really great." It was all too obvious how he really felt; his ego damaged and desperately trying to cover the bruises up. "Until next time, Mr. Stark," he delivered coldly with a turn and he half-stormed, half-strutted away. Guy would never learn, Tony thought and just shook his head, exiting the building.

He caught a cab back to the five-star hotel where he had been 'staying' (more like where he'd kept his belongings, since he'd ended up spending all his time at the conference). Soon he was checked out, his next-day reservation cancelled and refunded, and (since he preferred 'unconventional' methods of travel) his garment bag and other items arranged to be shipped back to Malibu in the morning, all save for his briefcase, which he had in hand. He made his way to the top deck of the parking garage; he might be a show-off but there wasn't any particular need to 'suit up' on the street. Tony felt around inside his jacket, quickly ensuring he still had Walsh's check before setting his briefcase down at his feet. He drew back his sleeve and pressed the button on his bracelet to activate his portable suit, the device keying to his signature and scanning a web of red laser over his body. Immediately the red and gold metal began unfolding; he stayed still as all the parts covered him from the legs up, the chest piece clicking into place over his arc reactor, until at last the headpiece came to rest over his face. The system booted up, the display lighting up before his eyes with all the read-outs. Everything looked good to him. He poised to take off.

"Sir, I suggest running a calibration diagnostic prior to take-off," the AI unit within his helmet spoke up.

Tony felt his eyes roll dramatically in his skull. "I'm on the clock, JARVIS. We know it works; I flew here in it yesterday. Now c'mon."

"As you wish," the program complied, overridden.

"Thank you," Tony said sarcastically and he shot up into the sky, two plumes of exhaust trailing behind him.

After achieving a stable altitude and velocity, JARVIS spoke up again. "May I recommend phoning Miss Potts?"

"Yeah, sure, give her a call," Tony shrugged. Maybe by now she wouldn't still be upset with him. He could hope. The engineer listened to it ring calmly as the wind ripped past him at Mach 1. She picked up, a video stream appearing in a miniature window on the screen within his helmet. "Hey, Pepper, it's me," he greeted with a smile, happy to see her face. Though she didn't look all that happy to see him.

"Hey," was all he got in response as she turned partially away to straighten some papers on her desk.

"I know, I'm behind 'schedule'," Tony used the cursed word apologetically. "But I'm on my way to the airport right now."

He watched her lean back in her swivel chair and coil her forefinger absently into the telephone cord. "Don't worry, his flight got delayed," the secretary said with a disappointed roll of her green eyes.

"Well, I'll wait however long it takes for him to get in," he shrugged within his suit of armor. "Hey, listen, I have some good news that might cheer you up," he added eagerly. "I sold the prototype to Dr. Walsh. It'll be going into production next fall."

"I know, I got the fax; it's great news!" she said as she held up the mentioned documents. The reminder did seem to lift her spirits at least somewhat, as he could see a small smile worming across her thin lips even as she tried to hide it. Her eyes half lidded. "Maybe if you get back here soon enough, we can break out some champagne after all."

Tony grinned widely. Officially out of the dog house. "I won't leave you waiting," he promised before ending the call. "Hey, JARVIS, throw on some Black Sabbath for me, watching the Rockies go by is getting boring."

"I presume 'Shuffle' is suitable, sir?"

"Yeah, sounds goo-- what the…?" The repulsor on his right palm stuttered and shut off, causing him to bank sharply to the right. He attempted to correct for it with his left arm as he shook his right hand to get it going again, and when that didn't work, he tried hitting it against his thigh. The stablizer merely sparked and began smoking, which was when the left repulsor flickered out as well.

"JARVIS, talk to me, what's happening?" he said with growing alarm, his eyes wide.

"Sir, the anterior repulsors have failed. Steering without them is practically impossible--"

"So I noticed!" Tony yelled at his AI as he fought to maintain a steady course with nothing but his legs. He gave a shout as he began to plummet out of the sky, on a downward course head-first towards the ground below.

Should have installed an emergency parachute system. He'd implement that in the next model. Well, assuming there would _be_ a next model.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bruce, I'm just not quite sure what you're looking for," the exasperated woman said as they stood out on the street corner. "Maybe if we could communicate a little more about what's going on with you, with your job, your family situation…"

"Sorry, I don't really want to talk about that…" Dr. Banner said apologetically, wringing his hands. He did feel badly for wandering all around the greater L.A. area without being able to make any sort of decision. It was just that of all the rentable laboratories the realtor had shown him, none of them felt quite… _right_. Yes, he'd been out of the country a long time… he should consider the possibility that he was just being too picky and just _pick_ one. Still, there was specific equipment he needed that he felt he couldn't compromise on. Without them, he just wouldn't be able to do his experiments.

"Here's an idea," Grace droned on, "Stop looking for a couple of months. Start again. You've gotta know where you wanna work."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb, frowning. Another couple of months? He'd been able to elude capture and find himself on a civilized corner of the planet for just awhile-- he wanted to spend it working, not looking for a _place_ to work.

A breeze picked up from seemingly nowhere and Dr. Banner felt something light hit him in the leg. He lifted an eyebrow, seeing a piece of paper had stuck itself to him, and leaned down to appropriate it. He turned it around to look at the front, readjusting his spectacles. It was an advertisement for a laboratory just a few miles north in Malibu, of all places. A lot of square footage, a considerable list of up-to-date, top-of-the-line instruments, and it doubled as an apartment, which took that added concern out of the equation. Honestly, it sounded _perfect_. "What about this?" he asked, holding it out to her.

The real estate agent had a good laugh. "A place like that, in a _location_ like that? It's long gone by now."

"Well, the ad's still out; we could at least go look. There's no harm in that, right?" Bruce reasoned, moving towards her car.

She followed after him, continuing to argue. "No, listen, there's ninety vultures and just one carcass…"

The physicist wouldn't hear any of it, getting into the car. Until he was sure it was gone, he wanted to check.

"Alright, fine," Grace gave a huff, pulling out her cell phone as she joined him in the vehicle, "I'll call them."

Within the next several minutes they arrived at the place described by the flyer and it was even more impressive than advertised, and that was just judging from the driveway and landscaping. It definitely had a modern look. Lots of curves and glass. Bruce didn't think he'd ever seen a sleeker looking 'lab' in all his life. It looked like something built and owned by a famous architect from one of those magazines.

"Well, it's pretty obvious why this hasn't rented," Grace was speaking again as she stuffed her cellphone into her purse and shut off the car. "There's no one-year lease," she explained. "It's a month-to-month sublet."

That was odd, Bruce had to admit. Though potentially all the more in his favor, considering he didn't know exactly when he'd have to pick up and leave himself. He shut the car door and proceeded up the walkway to the front entry. "Did they say why?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his slack pockets, curious.

She waved his question off dismissively. "Some business matter. They were pretty close-mouthed about it." The realtor unlocked the domicile and they both entered. The interior blew them both away. Marble and wood flooring, full home-automation controlled by touch-screen panels in the walls, an incredible bar (not that that was in any way high on Dr. Banner's list, but it spoke to the affluence the rest of the house did). He bent over one of the nearest panels to play with the thermostat, though there was significantly more information on the display as well. It was incredible. Whoever had programmed it had to be a genius, that was for sure.

Grace had wandered further in and stopped on the west end of the house. "Wow, what a view…" she breathed. "Bruce," she said his name to beckon him over. Dr. Banner allowed his head to lift from the lure of the fancy technology long enough to come over. A magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean stretched out in front of them, waves crashing against the shoreline the laboratory was built on. "Wow. This is… sensational," she said, still in awe. Her feet carried her over to the sliding door, which she opened to step out onto the deck, Bruce following. The salty air hit his face and danced in his curly locks as he stared into the great blue beyond. It felt like standing out on the edge of the world-- which was saying something, considering the number of remote places he'd travelled in his lifetime.

"Oh my God. And it's got private beach access??" Grace went on. Her hands went to her hips. "They didn't do much with it, but, I mean, you really could do something with this. Isn't this gorgeous?" she turned to him.

Bruce gave a nod of agreement. However, he couldn't make his final decision yet. He still needed to examine the lab (which according to the floorplan he'd found on-file in the wall panel, was located in the basement). The nuclear physist turned to go back inside, walking past the baby grand piano to the spiral staircase. He let himself into the laboratory and very quickly he got lost among the equipment, marvelling at all the things right at his _fingertips_. All he wanted and more. It was hard to resist touching it all and getting to work straight-away. There was so much to do, after all. He pulled out a stool and took a seat.

After several minutes searching the copious instrumentation, the realtor managed to find him. "Well, there's a few places we haven't hit yet…" she began, fussing with her purse. Clearly she expected him to be as unsatisfied with this lab as all the rest.

Dr. Banner ran his palms over the workbench he was seated at. "I like the workbench."

"…The workbench…" Grace repeated incredulously.

"It's a good workbench," he decided with a nod.

"Good workbench," she arched her brow.

 

Dr. Banner gave a soft groan as he poured another serving of chai tea into the little porcelain cup. He was nursing an awful headache that had seemed to come out of nowhere at one of the most inopportune times, right as he was making a breakthrough, and he wasn't going to let it set him back several hours of work. He carefully set the teapot on the backburner and took the cup to head back down the stairs, blowing on the surface of the liquid as he went. He entered his reprogrammed passcode into the keypad and took a small sip of the hot beverage as the door allowed him entry.

His feet carried him right over to where he'd left off, at the spectrometer where the machine was crunching away at data. He narrowed his eyes to take a look at how it was doing progress-wise on-screen, but his vision crossed and the text became blurred and indistinct. Stubbornly he set his tea down to rub at both eyes with his knuckles, pushing his spectacles up on his forehead. Unfortunately the added pressure just seemed to flare his migraine, causing his brow to furrow in pain, and he took an unsteady seat at the workbench. "Easy, Banner…" he said to himself, propping his head up with a palm and shutting his eyes. "You don't want to tear this place up."

Distantly he heard the spectrometer beep, trying to get his attention and alert him that it had finished its calculations, but by then, Bruce was already half-gone. Vivid images were cluttering his mind, sounds swarming his senses and overloading them such that he was in the lab no longer, but somewhere else… where? He'd been here before. Muggy, hot. It was the jungle. There was the sound of gunshot… of pursuing helicopters… what were they pursuing? Oh right, _him_.

He broke into a run, his feet leaving large indents in the underbrush, trampling roots and snapping folliage with his arms as he barrelled forward without destination. The rainforest was nothing but a green blur, not unlike himself, and his skin began to bead with perspiration from the exertion and humidity surrounding him. Bullets tore into the trees around him, lodging in the trunks and sending splinters flying. A few managed to pepper his right side and bounce off-- the .50 cal were more like beestings than actual wounds-- and he gave a tremendous roar, seizing a sizeable rotting log from the ground to hurtle up into the air. The helicopter pilot didn't even get a chance to dodge, the wood taking out the chopper blades and sending the vehicle into a nosedive. It crashed and burst into flames, the heat of the inferno surging through the dense brush; he raised his forearm to cover his face from it, teeth grit. In its place came three more helicopters, already bearing down on him, guns blazing, filling him with greater rage and desperation.

The harder he ran the faster they seemed to be able to fly and keep up with him. His heightened senses caught the sound of rushing of water nearby, barely audible over the continual rat-a-tat-tat. He banked for it, and the jungle began to thin around him until the ground beneath his feet disappeared entirely, revealing a waterfall that cascaded down in a torrential white foam into a natural pool several hundred feet below. Without so much as a second thought, the Hulk dove off the cliff, throwing his arms out to either side to slow the decent of his massive form. He hit the surface hard, driving the air out of his lungs as cold, murky water enveloped him.

Bruce spluttered awake, coughing hard like a drowning man, clutching his workdesk as if it was keeping him afloat.

"There's nothing worth stealing here," a voice sounded behind him. Bruce pivoted on his stool, coming face-to-face quite abruptly with a dark-haired man. He was somewhat short statured, brown eyes set close together in his head, a rather distinguished Van Dyke trimmed into his facial hair, wearing a faded band tee of Black Sabbath. He began to gesticulate with his hands. "There's no money, no drugs-- wait, take that back. Okay, fine, there's _plenty_ worth stealing here, but the point is--"

Bruce shook his head violently. "I'm not stealing anything," he interrupted. Was he still dreaming? No, couldn't be. Then how had this guy gotten into the lab? He would've needed the entry key. Not to mention the house itself. As far as he knew the security was top-notch. Maybe a circuit was faulty, or there was some kind of logical loophole. He ought to give it a look later...

"Right, sure, okay," the man rolled his eyes and began to strut around the laboratory like he owned the place. "Listen, I'm sure there's a junior college nearby or something where you can work on whatever little science fair project you've got going. I will give you money for cab fare and a cheeseburger. Nothing more, nothing less..."

"I work here," Banner said firmly, finding himself a little insulted by the derogatory tone. He picked up his glasses and perched them back on his nose. "I _live_ here."

A half-laugh, half-snort erupted from the other man's mouth. "You live here? Seriously? Yeah, sorry, buddy, not _really_ buying that one. You think I just give whoever wants it a tour? You can't be in here. This is my _private_ lab."

Bruce kneeded his temple. God, was it possible that his headache was getting worse? Then again, considering he was having an argument with this smart-mouthed interloper, it probably shouldn't surprise him. "Just when did this become your lab?" he interrogated.

The dark-haired man put his hands on his hips snarkily. "Since I had it built for me, that's when."

"You had it built?" Banner asked incredulously, not believing it for an instant. If he was the original owner, then for sure he'd know it was being rented out. He would have had to move out in the first place.

"Uh, yeah, that's what I just said," the guy rolled his eyes yet again. He motioned his hands out in front of him. "Is that really so hard to believe or am I speaking a different language here?"

"I don't need this," Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What?"

"This whole thing… this lab… beach house… it's a rent-scam, isn't it?" Bruce thought aloud, feeling like an idiot that he'd been lured into such an obvious scheme. "Grace was right about it being too good to be true. Five other people probably paid deposits and got the keycodes."

The man scoffed. "Riiight." His voice took on a distinctly sarcastic note. "And I'm sure they all moved their equipment into the laboratory in this little pipe-dream of yours too, huh?"

"I'm not following you," Bruce frowned.

"I'm saying this is all _my_ equipment," the man spelled it out for him. "All of it. That's my reagent dispenser," he motioned around the room as he began listing things off, "That's my analog multimeter. Soldering iron. Demagnetising solenoid. Centrifugal concentrator system. You want me to keep going? Cuz I can and will," the dark-haired man said.

Bruce found himself at a loss for words. After all, these weren't the kinds of things normal people knew anything about. How could he possibly be bluffing? He had to have at least some prior knowledge in the field of science to even be spouting all this. "But how--"

The man pointed over to where Bruce had been working before he fell asleep. "That over there? That's my atomic absorption spectrometer…" he faltered, seeing the display on the device was lit up. "Wait, did you seriously leave it on?? How long has it been on?" he demanded.

"Maybe an hour…?" the physicist scratched his head, not understanding his upset.

"Have you ever heard of an off-button?" the scientist said exasperatedly, "It overheats if you run it too long. You're going to fry the circuits!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't--" Wait, was he _apologizing_ to this stranger now?? He wasn't really buying into this, was he? Bruce shook his head.

The short-statured man frowned at the cluttered workbench. "Or a microplate washer, for that matter. I don't care who you are, you're going to clean this up. I'm going to get a bourbon," he announced. "When I get back, everything better be back where you found it." He turned on his heel and started up the curved staircase. "God damn, it's like a chimp started working in my lab. A trained chimp!"

"Wait," Bruce hurried to follow him, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. "Come back, I…" he trailed off when he found the upper part of the house completely devoid of anyone but himself. "Hello…?" he asked the room. He searched a few minutes, turning over every part of the upstairs, but he was unquestionably alone, as if the man hounding him had disappeared into thin air. Frowning, Bruce turned to go back down to the lab.

 

"Okay, so what's all this about?" Natasha Romanoff sat back in her chair outside the local coffee shop. She folded one leg over the over, scrutinizing him across the two-person table with a lifted eyebrow. "I presume you pulled me away for a good reason."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Bruce gave a nervous rub to his elbows. Natasha and he had a relationship forged more from necessity than 'friendship'-- not that they hated each other by any stretch. Though admittedly their tense first encounter in Kolkata hadn't exactly started them out on the right foot, they were more acquainted and on better footing than before. Miss Romanoff had fulfilled her mission in hooking Dr. Banner up with S.H.I.E.L.D., and Bruce had received a promise from the agency that he would be protected during his stint here in the United States; it was a wary compromise. The physicist cleared his throat. "I've sort of been seeing someone. He's been in my lab."

Natasha's head tipped to the side, voluminous red lips pursing momentarily before the corners lifted ever so slightly. "Well, that sounds good, doctor. It's about time you found an assistant to work with you."

Dr. Banner's brow scrunched and he plucked his glasses off his nose to anxiously clean the lenses on his shirt. "I don't think you catch my meaning…"

"Oh, you're the one assisting him?" she guessed again. "Either way, it's a step in the right direction for you. Especially since the last arrangement fell through." The direction she spoke of was part of her assignment; S.H.I.E.L.D. had stressed the imperativeness of hooking him up with different laboratories and fellow scientists so he could 'get back in the field' and resume his career as a researcher. Nuclear physicists had the unfortunate tendency to blow themselves to smithereens, putting them in short supply and high demand. It just so happened Bruce was no longer capable of blowing himself up. Some might have called that 'job stability', but they didn't know what it was like trying to contain 'the Other Guy' constantly. Miss Romanoff continued. "And the fact that you initiated it yourself… I have to say I'm impressed, doctor."

As much as he hated to disappoint her, he had to. Bruce shook his head and placed his glasses back on his face. "I mean I'm seeing someone that's not _there_ ," he emphasized.

The red-haired woman frowned. "Like a hologram?"

"No, believe me, I've explored that possibility quite thoroughly and extensively," the physicist said, taking a sip of his coffee from the small hole in the top of the styrofoam cup. He'd scoured the walls top to bottom for projection technology capable of such a convincing replica, and he'd turned up absolutely nothing.

"…A hallucination then?" Miss Romanoff ventured, switching which leg was crossed over the other.

"Yeah," Bruce admitted, "in my lab. A scientist."

"Did he seem intelligent?" she inquired.

"Not really there, Nat," he reminded.

Natasha parsed the information a moment before leaning out over the table somewhat. "So you say you saw this scientist in your lab. What was he doing?"

"Besides maligning me?" the physicist shook his head, made slightly irritated just thinking back on it. "Nothing really harmful I guess…" he shrugged.

"And have you been having any more bad dreams as of late?" she followed up.

Bruce tapped his fingers against his coffee container uncomfortably. How had he known _this_ question was coming? Of course she wouldn't believe what he had to say with his record. "I mean, every once and awhile, but they haven't been that… severe…" he shrugged.

"Don't lie to me, doctor, it doesn't help," she said bluntly, seeing right through him as if he were completely transparent. Miss Romanoff had always been no-nonsense and she wasn't taking any crap now either.

The physicist sighed and rubbed at his eyes underneath his spectacles. "Okay, fine, I've been having multiple nightmares a night. I can barely get any sleep at all; I'm lucky to catch a few hours at a time. But still, I shouldn't be seeing some OCD know-it-all claiming he owns my laboratory." Bruce blinked, realizing Miss Romanoff had gotten out a file folder and was scribbling into it. Concern immediately pooled in his gut. "Why are you writing this down? Are you putting this into my S.H.I.E.L.D. records?" he asked, trying to lean out over the table and see what she was writing.

"It's nothing serious, doctor," she assured him, barely looking up. "Just a necessary status report on your condition."

Dr. Banner groaned aloud, letting his head fall into his hands. "I shouldn't have agreed to come back here…" he bemoaned.

"No, this is where you belong," Natasha said, the sternness starting to drain out of her voice somewhat. "Look around you, Bruce. You can do good here, Fury knows you can." She reached out to touch his arm. "I know you can. Stop swimming around in your own mind… you've been alone and on the run long enough. It's been _years_ since your accident, you've learned to control it, there's no more need for you to hide."

The pep-talk certainly hadn't been something he'd expected to hear from the hardened Soviet woman. Bruce bobbed his head gently in response, fiddling with his coffee cup. "Yeah. Yeah, okay." He smiled at her appreciatively. As for the man he had seen, it probably had been some weird figment of his imagination-- a /really/ weird one, seeing as it usually dug things up from his past and he was quite certain he'd never met the man before the encounter in the lab. His mind had never out-and-out _invented_ someone before. Nonetheless, he wouldn't let it distract him any further, he decided firmly. He had too much at stake for that.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright, what the Hell are you doing in here now?"

Bruce jumped awake from where the left side of his face had been resting on the workbench. "Oh, God, what is this??" he exclaimed, trying to get his bearings. When he saw the microscope in front of him he realized he'd conked out in the middle of his experiments again. He gave a soft groan and drug his hand over his face, peering at the scientist who'd re-appeared through the spaces between his fingers. "Not again…"

"You know, I didn't want to, but I'll call the police if that's what it takes to get you out of here," the man said, hands poised on his hips again. "I've had other companies send people to try and steal my research. I have good lawyers; it's never ended well for them."

"I'm sleeping, it's a dream," Bruce told himself out loud, shutting his eyes in hopes that when he opened them again, the man would be gone. "It's one of those dreams where you know you're dreaming..."

But the 'hallucination' didn't vanish, it fact he seemed to become wordier than ever, if that was possible. "We probably could have been friends, you and I. You know, if we'd met at a convention and hung out at the bar and gotten to know one another or something first, but instead you seem to be intent on breaking into my lab over and over-- which is a good trick, by the way, you're going to have to tell me how you did that… Are you like some kind of super-specialized cryptographer? I thought my codes were practically fool-proof against every decryption cipher in the book."

The physicist clapped his hands over his ears. "Get out of my head!"

The dark-haired man tilted his head to the side like a curious bird. "Wait, lemme get this straight… you think I'm--" he pointed to himself with both hands-- "up in your head? Wow, okay. I'm flattered, I guess. Sorry to give you a rude wake-up call, buddy, but this is me: living, breathing, in-the-flesh." He motioned up and down his body as proof. "I don't get any real-er than this."

Bruce just stared at him, dead-pan. "You _can't_ be real." He rubbed at his eyes again, swearing under his breath.

The apparition walked over to him and leaned out towards him, seemingly studying his affect a moment. "Tell me something, have you been losing a lot of sleep lately?" he guessed.

Dr. Banner gave a wry chuckle. "I usually do."

"Listen, I know a thing or two about sleep deprivation myself," the scientist said, starting to pace around the lab again. "You might start feeling paranoid, like everyone's out to get you and do you in. Or you might start hearing voices or seeing things…"

"Yeah, you're telling me," Bruce mumbled with a roll of his eyes. God, this was _really_ ridiculous, the man he was imagining was attempting to diagnose the fact that he was imagining things. That had to be irony at its very best.

"Now, what I'm saying here is that you've fantasized, and quite convinvingly, I must add, that you've rented a laboratory that, in fact, belongs to _me_. Pick up that bunsen burner," he commanded and Bruce frowned. "Pick it up, it's okay, just look at the bottom real quick, I'm trying to make a point here. There's some residue left from when I accidentally spilled a mixture of carbonic acid and potassium hydroxide." The physicist turned it over, spying the white grainy substance and he swabbed his thumb over it suspiciously to confirm the claim, since any good chemist could tell you the mixture resulted in water (which would have long since evaporated) and potassium carbonate, a white salt. He licked his thumb and gawked at the taste, not knowing at this point whether he should be surprised or not that it was just as the other scientist said it was.

"Now, seriously, how else would I know that?" the dark-haired man questioned, holding his hands out. "Or how about the fact that the microscope you've been putting your face all over is an Omano OM239P Polarizing Trinocular Compound microscope?" he rattled off. Bruce blinked and readjusted his glasses to examine the label on the side of the device. "Yeah, go ahead, check the manufacturer's seal. That puppy cost me two grand." He held up two fingers.

Dr. Banner frowned and peeled the glasses off his ears with a sigh, having verified that too. Either he was really nuts or this guy was for real. The older man stood in front of him and folded his arms across his chest. "I think you need to come to terms with the fact that this is _my_ laboratory. This is my workspace, my equipment. That's my coffee machine, that's the arc reactor that… hey, where's my trophy?"

"What trophy?" Bruce asked, interest piqued by the mention of a 'reactor'.

"There was a glass case with my arc reactor…" the man seemed legitimately upset that _finally_ something wasn't where he expected it to be. "It was right here on the shelf."

The physicist shrugged, folding his spectacles into his chest pocket. "That bookcase was completely clear when I moved in."

"It was _just_ there," the man pouted. "You know what? I've had enough, you think you can just snatch things out of my lab and get away with it; I'm calling the police."

Bruce shot to his feet. "Whoa, no, now hold on, that won't be necessary!" If he was arrested the next step would be military-involvement, back to General Ross attempting to cage him and keep him under lock and key. His stomach turned flip-flops, heart beginning to pound dangerously in his chest as the Hulk stirred within him.

"A little late to explain yourself, buddy," the scientist said, leaning over to poke the control panel on the wall. Except his fingers phased right through the buttons. Bruce did a double-take. "Hey, what the heck did you do to my touchscreen?" the dark-haired man demanded, looking suitably flustered. He tried poking it a few more times ineffectually. "Why can't I…?" Bruce stared in wide-eyed awe; he couldn't believe what he was seeing. It was as if the other man wasn't… solid… as if he were a phantom.

The apparition pointed at him threateningly. "You stay right there. I'm going to use the one in the antechamber." He turned quickly on a heel and stormed out of the lab and just like that, he vanished like he'd never existed at all.

 

It had been around four in the morning when he'd had his second sighting and interaction with the man in his laboratory. Bruce tried to busy himself tidying up a bit and making some semblence of a breakfast, but he kept glancing over his shoulder and around corners, half expecting to see him again. As soon as eight o'clock rolled around, Bruce wasted no time in picking up the phone and calling the realtor, knowing she should be available in her office at the beginning of the work day. She picked up on the very first ring. "Hey, Grace. Bruce Banner here," he greeted efficiently, drumming his fingers against the railing of the outdoor deck where he'd chosen to make his call. Call him crazy, but part of him was nervous if he made it down in the lab, the guy would show up and interrupt him in the middle of it.

"Oh hi, Bruce," she responded cheerfully. "How are you liking your place? I'm so glad we could finally find somewhere that worked for you," she directed the conversation seemlessly into her business spiel. "It was _quite_ the ordeal. But we pulled through for you!"

"It's great, yeah," the physicist replied perfunctorily, scuffing his loafers on the redwood planks. "I just… had a question."

"Well, go on and shoot, no need to flap your gums," she laughed, not aware of her own hypocrisy by saying such.

He cleared his throat. "Uh… the people who sub-let this lab to me… do you have their number so I could get in contact with them?" he inquired.

"Is something wrong?" she sounded suddenly concerned.

"Oh, no," Bruce lied, quickly wetting his lips with his tongue. "Nothing like that… I, uh, I was just wondering about the owner, that's all." He frowned and glanced out at the waves crashing on the beach as he waited for a reply.

"Well, the woman that I dealt with, she didn't want to talk about it," Grace responded and Bruce found himself nipping his tongue. "It was some kind of tragedy in the company. I didn't press for details cuz I don't need any more drama."

Dr. Banner felt his eyebrows lift. He held the phone closer to his face. "You think the man who owned this place died…?" He _was_ seeing a ghost after all! A ghost of a man who was _haunting_ his former laboratory. Bruce wasn't much one for believing in the paranormal, since usually he liked to assume everything and anything could be explained with science, but the evidence was certainly stacking up in that direction.

"Well, you better hope so," the woman on the other end chuckled. "That's the only way they're gonna get off this month-to-month thing and give you a real lease."

Her attitude made the physicist/humanitarian cringe a little. The lab might be perfect, but he didn't wish harm upon anyone. "That's not exactly the reason I was asking," he started to clarify, but she interrupted again in a patronizing tone.

"Come on, Bruce, grow up. Look, it has a view, a full bar, a _piano_. People would kill their grandmothers for a lot less in this area."

"Right. Well thanks," he said somberly before quickly ending the call. Bruce sighed and stared out at the ocean again as the sunrays danced on the crests. So he had a spirit in his laboratory and had no idea how to get rid of it. He guessed it was time to hit the books and do some research.

Of all the things he had studied in his lifetime, Bruce never would have guessed he'd become an expert in parapsychology.

 

At least he was finally finding a use for the ID card S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him, Bruce thought as he swiped the magnetic stripe through the reader. The machine gave a satisfied chirrup of confirmation and the door to the data library clicked unlocked so he could enter. It was quiet inside, only a few other people besides himself there; obviously it wasn't an oft utilized section of the compound. It was a big facility, bigger than Bruce had been expecting, considering it was merely an off-shoot-- the real headquarters was somewhere undisclosed in New York, but this was the branch nearest him. The place was a bit of a labyrinth as well, to be honest, twisting hallways, gated checkpoints. Nestled in the cliffs of the San Gabriel Mountains, there were more underground floors than Bruce cared to count, each progressively lower level corresponding to the amount of secrecy involved. He didn't have a clearance beyond B2, but thankfully the library was located on B1, so he had access.

Dr. Banner found himself a spot at an open computer console, keyed in his personal passcode, and plugged in his USB drive. He wet his lips and placed his fingers on the homekeys of the keyboard, staring at the insertion cursor blinking at him in the searchbar, only realizing then that he had no idea what keywords he should start with. Finally he settled on 'spirit' and hit enter, and his eyebrows lifted when the computer returned several thousands of pages of results worth of newspaper columns, magazine articles, scientific journals, dissertations, books, manuals and manuscripts. He coughed and readjusted his glasses. Perhaps he ought to add a few more terms to narrow things down. He added 'sighting' and queried the database a second time.

"Can I help you with anything?" asked a friendly voice behind him.

Maybe it was because the last two times he'd heard voices behind him it had turned out to be a ghost, but Bruce jumped halfway out of his skin. He recovered when he saw the voice belonged to a middle-aged gentleman with a slightly receding hairline and a kindly smile. He was wearing a formal black business suit and had a name tag clipped on his breast pocket that identified him as 'Agent Phil Coulson'. Dr. Banner returned his smile. "No, thanks, that's alright," he declined, clicking on one of the top links that looked somewhat promising. He felt ridiculous enough searching for pseudo-science alone without the added embarrassment of someone else knowing he was.

The fellow didn't go away though, still standing a respectful distance behind him. "I've always found the paranormal to be an interesting subject," he said casually.

Bruce turned in his swivel chair to glance back at him, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. "Do you believe in this stuff?" he asked cautiously.

Phil shrugged. "Well, you don't until you do. Like a lot of things: mythology, astrology, ufology. When you're in my line of work, you learn that everything has a grain of truth to it." He smiled again, bouncing slightly on his heels.

Well, at least with that attitude Bruce didn't have to worry about the guy looking down on him any. He turned back to resume scrolling through the document he had opened.

"That's a little dated," Phil said, coming forward a step. "Mind if I?" he asked, extending his hand towards the mouse.

The physicist hesitated, but eventually sat back in his chair to let the agent take over. He just wanted to help, and he wasn't being unfriendly, so why not let him? Maybe he could make his life a little easier. With an impressive rapidity, Coulson began sorting through the menus and tabs. "So what kind of encounter have you had?" he asked genially.

Bruce frowned and pushed his glasses up his nose again in nervous habit. "I uh… I had an apparitional experience…" he admitted, the words sounding silly on his tongue.

"Right on," Coulson smiled, seeming to pass no judgement at all, his blue eyes practically dancing with excitement. "So do you need information on communicating? I know of some really good material on seance, there's a surprising amount of evidence in favor of it, not that it gets far past S.H.I.E.L.D., unless we want it to."

He actually laughed. "Trust me, communication is _not_ his problem," Bruce said, shaking his head. Could barely get the guy to shut up.

"Got'cha. Don't worry, I can find you exactly what you need," the agent promised. With the words he compiled a number of volumes into zip format, copying them into the physicist's USB drive, nearly filling the little 4 GB stick and making Bruce balk. "That should do you for now," he said with a smile, dismounting the drive and handing it to Dr. Banner.

"Uh, thanks," he took it, and trying to remain polite, he extended his hand for a shake, "Agent Coulson, is it?"

The man returned the gesture with a firm grip. "Just call me Phil."

"Yeah, alright," Bruce responded and let go. "Nice meeting you, Phil."

"See you around, Dr. Banner," the agent responded cheerfully, and Bruce kind of hoped it wouldn't be the case. Hopefully he'd have this all cleared up by tomorrow and he could get back to his work with no further set-backs. He hurried out the door and made himself scarse.


	4. Chapter 4

"'These are cases in which a person has a quasi-perceptual experience of someone at a distance at the time of that person’s death or other crisis. If the temporal coincidence of the crisis and the distant apparitional experience cannot be explained by any conventional means, then the presumption is made that some as yet unknown form of communication, such as telepathy has taken place.'" Bruce frowned at the line on screen in front of him. "Great," he mumbled, throwing up his hands, "so I guess I can conclude I have ESP." He gave a frustrated huff and dropped his forehead into his hand.

By now he had spent pretty much the entire day reading up on various aspects of anomalous apparitional experiences, pouring over file after file, taking notes, cross-referencing, and putting his analytical mind to the test of unraveling the mysterious ball of yarn handed to him. The hours had just slipped by, and on the whole, he didn't feel like he'd learned much. It all seemed like a bunch of half-baked theories cooked up by misinformed psychoanalysts. Nothing made sense. It wasn't science, it was lunacy. But as evening approached, Bruce decided it was time to attempt to 'summon' the spirit scientist from his slumber. Or however the damn books worded it. Another sighting could be enlightening, and if he was lucky, he could dispell the man to his final resting place.

He picked one of what seemed the least ridiculous rituals from a .pdf, which called for a dimmed room and three unscented candles. Dubiously he reduced the overhead fluorescents to 15% power and struck a match to light each wick one by one, carefully positioning them on the workbench as per the directions-- the place he had _first_ encountered the spirit. "Alright," he said to himself, taking a last glance at the passage he was to read aloud. He picked up the middle candle and held it aloft in front of him, clearing his throat before reciting, "Spirit, awake. Spirit, partake. Spirit, without fear. Spirit, appear!" The physicist glanced to his left and right, then behind him. "Are… are you here?" he asked the empty lab, but the answer was pretty obvious and hardly surprising. Bruce frowned. He set the candle down on the workbench and got up to look around. "Come on, I think you're here," he spoke to the room at large, turning about several times. His eyes caught on the spectrometer, which gave him a sudden stroke of inspiration.

"Okay," he said nice and loudly, letting his voice project, "I have some spectroanalytical procedures that _really_ need to get done! It's going to take me _quite_ a while to get through them all!" He reached for the on-off switch. "Maybe even a couple of hours…"

"Don't you dare!"

"Aha!" Bruce wheeled around with his index finger extended, catching the ghost red-handed. The man in the faded band-tee gave him a look and Bruce coughed into his hand. "I uh… sorry. I was just hoping to talk to you." He began to wring his hands, feeling somewhat awkward.

The man looked none too impressed, crossing his arms over the t-shirt graphic on his chest. "About what? You break into my lab three times because you 'just want to talk'? Am I really supposed to believe that? You know, most _normal_ people set an appointment. You may have heard of that concept." He motioned his hand languidy. "By the way, official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday. Just in case you didn't know."

Dr. Banner lowered his head and chuckled. "Right. Well, I'm here now," he stated amicably, gesturing outward with his hands, "so can we talk?"

The dark-haired man made a pouting face and tapped his foot a couple times as he tried to come to a decision. "Yeah, sure, fine," he said, glancing away.

Good. This was a good start, Bruce thought. They had a dialogue going. Now he just had to figure out how to handle the situation in as delicate a manner as possible. He called up the lights to 100% and blew out the candles before turning back towards the spirit. "I was wondering… recently, has anything felt 'off' about the way you've been uh… spending your days?" he asked.

The brown eyes bore down on him. "Yeah, actually. Most notably the fact I've had to chase you out of my laboratory every single day."

…Or not such a good start. Dr. Banner pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath and letting it back out again. Don't get flustered, he reminded himself. They could sort through this. Somehow. "Maybe we should start over…" he suggested. He looked the man in the eyes. "Hi, I'm Bruce Banner, Ph.D of Nuclear Physics from Harvard. And you…?"

The older man's brow furrowed. "My name is…" he hesitated, glancing about the room; Bruce waited patiently. "It's… uh…" he snapped his fingers a couple of times, seemingly trying to jog his memory. "Tony!" he exclaimed suddenly, "My name is Tony."

Dr. Banner regarded him over his spectacles, having expected a bit more of an introduction than that. A title, some credentials maybe, at very least a last name. "You're sure about that?"

"I think I know my own name, thanks," the scientist delivered with derision.

Well, he supposed for now he'd go with it, if only because he didn't have anything better and he needed _something_ to call the guy by. "Alright… and can you tell me when you last spoke to someone, other than me?" he asked, pacing around to his other side. After all, it would be informative to learn if he was the only one being 'haunted' by the ghost, if anyone _else_ could see him as well.

The dark-haired man looked ever so slightly uncomfortable. "I don't remember. I talk to lots of people, all the time," he said dismissively.

Bruce hummed. "Okay, and when you're not here, in 'your' lab, what do you do with the rest of your day?" Bruce inquired. From what he knew, the scientist's ghost only appeared here in the basement, but that didn't exclude the possibility of him appearing in other locations as well.

Tony merely laughed. "Well I get out a Hell of a lot more than you do, that's for damn sure," he said, dodging the answer and eliciting a frown from the physicist.

"That doesn't answer my question, Anthony."

"Don't call me Anthony," Tony snapped, "You're not my father. My name is _Tony_."

"Sorry," Bruce apologized, realizing he'd struck a nerve. Maybe he should stop beating around the bush and get down to brass tacks.

Tony's foot tapped against the concrete floor. "How much longer is this going to take? This has got to single-handedly be the worst interview I've ever done. Are they seriously playing you for this?"

Bruce ignored the line of questioning. "Just one more question," he promised and Tony's eyes rolled, but he didn't refuse. Dr. Banner cleared his throat. "Can you tell me if anything…" he wet his lips, "dramatic… has happened to you recently? Any kind of 'crisis'? Or tragedy that you can think of?"

The scientist shook his head with a chuckle. "What exactly are you trying to get at here? Honestly?" he asked.

"Tony," Bruce kept his voice very calm and very even as he looked the man square in the eyes, "this may be difficult news, but… it's my professional opinion that you're no longer of the living."

He hadn't expected the other man to bust out laughing; Tony doubled over, slapping his knee. "Your 'professional opinion'? Oh, I'm sure _that's_ worth a lot. Please." He swiveled on his heel and started to walk away from him.

"I'm serious," Bruce felt his face heat with anger. He looked down to see his fingertips tinging green, and he placed them behind his back as he mentally dialed back the emotion.

"Lemme guess, you're 'deathly' serious?" Tony punned, glancing back at him.

Okay, he'd had just about enough of this childish behavior. Dr. Banner reached forward to grab the man roughly by the shoulder. However, his fingers phased right through him, which honestly, he probably should have been expecting considering prior observations. Tony jerked away. "Whoa, hands off, buddy! What the Hell?"

"I'm trying to tell you something and you're not listening," Bruce said firmly, standing toe-to-toe with the other scientist. "You might have owned this place once, but you don't anymore. It was rented to _me_ because something happened to you. And now your spirit is hanging around haunting me instead of being at rest like it should be."

Tony stared like a deer caught in the headlights. His gaze flicked back and forth between both of Bruce's eyes. "You _are_ serious," he said softly. Finally he seemed to be getting through to him; Bruce sighed with relief. Tony straightened up suddenly. "Tell me, have you ever considered checking yourself in to a psychiatric ward? They can help people like you--"

" _I'm_ not the one disappearing and reappearing," Bruce interrupted with a growl. "Or the one phasing through objects! You died, Tony!"

The scientist ran his hands through his hair several times, clearly flustered. "Stop saying that! I _can't_ be dead… there's no way."

"Why not?"

"Listen, I think I would _know_ if I was dead, alright??" Tony yelled, whipping around to storm away, but a cabinet of chemistry glassware stood in his path. He let out a cry of surprise, trying to skid to a stop before he could crash into it, but in so doing he tripped over his feet and fell. Rather than sending the beakers and test tubes flying however, his vaporous form phased right through the solid object and he landed face-first on the floor.

Bruce hurried around to the other side. "Are you okay?" he asked, even though it seemed unlikely a ghost could be hurt. He would have offered the guy a hand up as well, except he doubted Tony could take it.

"What the Hell is happening to me??" Tony cried out, scrabbling to his feet. "What did you _do_ to me??"

"Me?" Bruce got out exasperatedly, "I didn't do anything to you! You think I have that kind of…" he searched for a proper word where there wasn't one, "know-how? There's no scientific explanation for the way you are! I've been searching!" he motioned at the computer.

Tony was obviously done listening though. He curled his hand into a fist and threw it at Bruce to clobber him across the face, but it swung right through him. It was a weird sensation for Bruce, kind of like a sudden coolness had breezed through him fleetingly and then was gone. "Son of a--" the short-tempered man cursed and threw his other hand in an uppercut, only to get the same result.

Bruce stepped backward out of range, not that there was exactly need to. "Okay, I get that you're upset, I would be too, but honestly I just want to help you." The scientist continued to swing at him as he spoke. "Tony, stop. Tony…" he attempted to stop him peacefully until he just couldn't take it anymore. "Hey! I said, knock it off!" he growled, baring his teeth.

Tony frowned and shoved his hands under his armpits, looking like a wounded puppy.

"Thank you," Bruce said, taking a long deep breath. "Now, _please_ , bear with me a second. Look around you, do you see a bright light anywhere?"

The scientist's eyes rolled dramatically in his skull. "No, there's no light."

"You're sure?" Dr. Banner asked again. He knew 'walking into the light' was a kind of contemporary notion, but it was a phenomenon commonly reported by those who had been resuscitated from the brink of death.

"Yes, I'm _sure_ ," Tony said, his snark quickly returning. He paused for a beat. "Wait…" The man glanced down at himself, hands coming up to paw over his clothed chest. Bruce watched with fascination. "There's no light…" Tony repeated. He clutched his hand over the center of his chest. "There's supposed to be…" he trailed off, looking crestfallen.

"Supposed to be… what?" Dr. Banner urged him to continue. But the man turned on the spot, staring at the west wall of the laboratory with wide eyes. He ran full tilt at it and vanished beyond it.

Bruce blinked, left wondering if that had been it. Had Tony seen a light after all and run towards it? Was it all over? Could he go back to work? No, maybe he'd try to get some decent sleep now and try to forget all this had happened. "Rest in peace," Bruce mumbled softly as he shut down the computer and moved to go up the stairs. He looked up and jolted-- the man was standing on the top step, arms folded, hip cocked.

"Like I said. No light." He extended both arms out to his sides and smiled. "Looks like you and I just became roomies."

 

From there on out, he couldn't get rid of the guy. He was _everywhere_. At _all_ times. And he refused to leave him alone. Bruce was an incredibly patient man; he'd learned to be thanks to his condition, and he tried his hardest to tolerate the ghost despite his obnoxious tendencies and rude behavior. Because really, he knew Tony was just trying to get on his nerves, poke his buttons, but he hoped that if he ignored him long enough he might get bored and go away, phase off into the proper plane of existence or something. Unfortunately, that tactic hadn't exactly been working thus far. The man was as stubborn as a mule and seemed as unwilling to leave as Bruce himself was.

"You know what I miss?" Tony said from where he was sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs back and forth. "Take-out. I used to always get take-out. You know how many good take-out joints are around here? You're missing out."

Bruce gave only a mumble of acknowledgement as he poured the broccoli out of its steamer and onto his plate beside his fillet of fish.

"I mean, you've obviously got the cash," Tony continued to yammer, following him over to the kitchen table where Bruce sat to consume the dinner he had made for himself-- Tony, being a ghost, seemingly didn't need to eat. "Otherwise there's no way in Hell you could afford to rent my place-- no offense," he put up a hand yieldingly. "Why not go out? I mean, I get that you've got the whole… social recluse thing going-- and you're absolutely rocking it, by the way-- but…"

"It doesn't concern you," Bruce leveled a stare at him over his glasses.

"Eh, whatever," Tony turned his gaze away with a shrug. Only a moment or two passed before his mouth was on the run again. "Oh, and the local donut joint? Don't get me started! I don't know of anywhere else that has so many varieties of jelly centers! Do you know of anywhere else you can get boysenberry donuts…?"

It just seemed to go on like that every passing hour of every passing day. He began to question why he was putting up with it. Why instead of trying to dig up more ways to banish the guy, he'd simply given up and gone back to his research-- as best he could under the circumstances. Tony meanwhile had seemed to warm up to him, in his own way, often trying to engage him in discussion or just interact. More and more it seemed like the ghost was trying less to annoy him and more to befriend him. Bruce had never exactly been a people-person, and Tony's extroversion wasn't something he quite knew how to respond to. So, for the most part, he simply didn't.

"Another one, huh?" Tony asked with an odd softness in his voice. He was sitting on a stool just a couple feet away from where Bruce had last collapsed from exhaustion in the lab.

The physicist just shoved his face into a hand, cringing as he tried to push away the visions of the nightmare that had plagued him this time. He really wasn't comfortable that Tony knew about them. And the fact that Tony watched over him while he slept until he woke from them made him even… less comfortable. "I'm fine…" he insisted, throat a little raw.

"This is just a suggestion," Tony said in a tone of voice that made it sound like it wasn't actually a suggestion, "but there's a perfectly good California-King sized bed upstairs, and I guarantee you it's a lot more comfortable than the workbench. I'm talking from personal experience here. If I can't use it, someone should be."

Bruce lifted his head from his hand, studying the man's spirit with curiosity. Was that… generosity veiled behind his normal sarcasm? He wet his thick lips and carefully stood. "Yeah… thanks, I will," he replied, moving to go.

"Sure thing," the scientist motioned dismissively. Dr. Banner stopped just outside the lab exit, looking back at Tony, fully well expecting the guy to tag along as per usual, but he seemed to be staying put, pretending to be interested in a coil of wire on the workbench. Bruce hummed thoughtfully and waited a moment longer before going up the stairs. Finally, maybe, he'd have some time alone with peace and quiet. He traversed the living room to get to the master bedroom, beginning to unbutton his shirt as he went. As soon as he rounded the corner, there was Tony, slouched into an armchair with both hands resting behind his head.

"Oh hey!" he greeted effervescently.

Bruce threw up his hands in frustration. "Forget it!" he turned to storm back down to the lab.

"Forget what?" the scientist leaned forward in his chair.

He shouted back. "I said forget it, Tony!"

A few days later he was actually reaching the end of his rope. None of his experiments were working, everything seemed to be going haywire, he was running on far too little sleep and he'd lost a significant portion of data to a random system failure earlier in the day. Murphy had it out for him, clearly. He would have been crabby and irritable regardless of the presence of a ghost clamoring for his attention in his lab.

But to say Tony was only making things worse was an understatement.

"You need to loosen up, Bruce," the scientist said, shoving his phantom elbow into the physicist's solid arm.

Dr. Banner instinctually flinched, almost dropping his cell sample. "What I need to do is focus on my work," he said firmly, casting an irritated glance back at the ghost, communicating he had no patience for his foolishness today.

Tony snorted and strut away from the desk, beginning to pace. "You know, I have to admit, I just don't get it. What's so important about what you're doing anyway? It's like you work non-stop and never give yourself a break to kick back." He tipped his head. "You're making _me_ tired and I don't even need to sleep."

Bruce paused, wetting his lips as he set down his prongs. Of course Tony wouldn't see the importance of what he was doing. From an outside perspective few would. Continuous trial and error, recalculations and data collection… to what end? _That_ was what Tony didn't know, and Bruce didn't have any intention of enlightening him. "It's a personal project," he disclosed softly, setting the plate under the microscope and leaning in to look at it.

Tony frowned. "'Personal' as in you're not going to tell me."

He didn't so much as lift his eye from the scope as he fiddled with the dial. "Yeah."

"Aw c'mon, please?" Tony leaned out over the workbench, big brown puppy eyes widening imploringly. "I wanna know. Just tell me a little about it? It's the least you could do, you know, me letting you use my lab and all."

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes, back to the ownership discussion again; Tony couldn't let it go. He shook his head. "Sorry."

"Alright, I didn't want to have to resort to this, but you leave me no choice," Tony said. Bruce narrowed his eyes at the spirit with a look of what-do-you-think-you're-doing-now? but Tony was already climbing up onto the workbench to stand on top of it. The man put his hands out as if he were holding onto a guitar and with a flourish of his arm began to strum it, loudly mimicking the riff with his voice. It took a moment for Bruce to recognize the tune, which was when Tony started belting out lyrics as well.

"Living easy, living free  
Season ticket on a one-way ride  
Asking nothing, leave me be  
Taking everything in my stride  
Don't need a reason, don't need rhyme  
Ain't nothing I'd rather do  
Going down, party time  
My friends are gonna be there too, yeah…  
 _I'm on the hiiiighway to hell_!"

Bruce covered his ears as Tony wailed his way through the chorus. He danced around on the tabletop, rocking his shoulders and hips to his own poorly-reenacted beat. Kind of an ironic song choice, if you asked Bruce, though he questioned if Tony could have possibly gone with anything _more_ annoying. "That's enough, Tony, get down!" he shouted over his singing, but the scientist kept going.

"No stop signs, speed limit  
Nobody's gonna slow me down  
Like a wheel, gonna spin it  
Nobody's gonna mess me 'round  
Hey Satan, paid my dues  
Playing in a rocking band  
Hey momma, look at me  
I'm on my way to the promised land

" _Owww_!" he yowled as he devolved into a guitar solo, plucking strings frantically.

"You know what? That's it," Bruce said sternly. "I've tried to not be mean, but now you're out of here."

His air-thrashing came to a very sudden halt. He hopped down from the workbench to chase after him as Bruce grabbed his jacket and exited the lab. "What do you mean?" Tony forced a chuckle, hurrying up the stairs behind him. "You don't know how to get rid of me. I know you don't."

"Yeah? Well, I know someone who probably does," Bruce countered and he slammed the front door in the apparition's face.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony paced the living room the entire time Bruce was gone. "He was bluffing," he reassured himself, running his fingers through his hair over and over. "If he wanted you gone and had a way to do it, he would have already done it a long time ago," he reasoned. The engineer paused by the bar, looking over the medley of alcohol on the shelf. Man he wished he could have a drink-- just one little drink, just to take the edge off his case of nerves. He swept his hand over the various decanters, watching his fingers phase through them with a sigh. Some aspects of this whole 'being a ghost' thing were incredibly boring. Though he still wasn't convinced he was _actually_ dead like Bruce kept saying.

The sound of the front door being unlocked stirred Tony from his brooding. He rushed into the antechamber and saw Bruce emerge with another man around his same height. He recognized him immediately, but he could quite put his finger on _where_ he recognized him from, or when he would have met him. The man was dressed like a government agent-- black suit, small briefcase and all-- but he had a kindly smile on his face. "Thank you, Dr. Banner," he said warmly, stepping in from the front porch. Bruce closed the door after him and glanced up at Tony across the room.

The engineer gave a huff and broke eye-contact as he folded his arms tightly across his chest. He was tempted to not even _speak_ to the other scientist, that was how betrayed he felt by this whole… operation. But he spoke up anyway, if only to make a point. "Come on, this guy's not going to be able to see me. We already went through this. No one can, except you," Tony said. He paused and got right in the man's face to wave his hands about. Sure enough he didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "See?" Tony shrugged.

Bruce's lips pursed, but in the interest of the agent standing beside him, neglected to say anything.

"You have anywhere I could set this down?" the man asked, lifting his briefcase somewhat.

"Yeah, uh… there's a coffee table in the living room," the physicist said, holding out his arm to direct them to said room.

The agent's eyes crinkled and he proceeded forward.

Tony siddled up next to the physicist. "Bruce, who the Hell is this guy?" he half-hissed, half-whispered (not that he needed to keep his voice down, he'd already proven that). "I told you there's no visitations unless they set an appointment!"

Dr. Banner did whisper back so as to respond without being heard. "His name is Phil Coulson. And this _isn't_ your lab anymore, so _I_ decide who visits and when."

Tony pouted hard, but his brain was mulling over that name. Coulson. Coulson. Why was that so damn familiar and yet brought _nothing_ back?? Who had he known by that name? He had to know it, he knew he had to, he just couldn't and sonuvabitch was that frustrating. The innovator kneeded his temples aggressively as he followed Bruce out to the living room where Phil was unlatching both sides of his suitcase. He propped the top open, revealing several pieces of hardware inside, but the agent chose the smallest of the devices that had a couple of dials and switches and a little LCD screen. "Electromagnetic field meter?" Bruce recognized, taking a curious step forward as he placed his glasses on his nose to take a look-see.

Phil nodded, allowing the scientist to spy over his shoulder at it. "Simple, I know, but sometimes simple is the answer," he smiled.

"You're sure you'll be able to see him through magnetic distortion?" Banner asked. Tony shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking from Bruce to the the agent and back to Bruce again. He didn't like this. Not one bit.

"If he's anything like an ordinary ghost," Coulson confirmed with a smile. He flicked it on and the contraption immediately started blinking and making grainy crackling noises. Tony frowned when Phil pointed it directly at him, side-stepping out of the way. Every time the agent swept it towards him, Tony dodged, trying to stay one step ahead and remain undetected. Hell if he was going to let this guy pinpoint him easy. This was _his_ lab! He refused to be thrown out of his own damn beachhouse.

"Hm… definitely a presence," Coulson reported.

"Oh, look who's the smart guy in the room now," Tony jabbed with a snort, peeking over the couch where he had sought temporary shelter.

"And…?" Bruce pressed hopefully.

The agent tapped at his meter, glancing about again as he fiddled with one of the dials. "It's lonely. Doesn't want to leave."

Tony stopped his dodging to lift an eyebrow. "Actually, he's not half bad at this," he took back. He may not remember where he'd met the agent, but he was seeming A-OK already. Bruce frowned deeply.

"You should let him stay," Coulson determined.

Dr. Banner's jaw practically dropped. "I should let him _stay_??" he spat out, flabbergasted.

"I would," Phil shrugged.

"I like him!" Tony announced, made giddy by the recommendation. He rushed through the couch, over to Bruce's side. He could scarcely believe how fast the tables had turned. Here Dr. Banner had been, so smug that he was going to be rid of him, and now the very guy he had brought in to help him was on Tony's side. Karma. It had to be karma, Tony decided. Man, he loved karma. Almost as much as he loved donuts. He wished he could eat a donut.

"No, I'm… I'm not going to let him stay! He has to go!" Bruce argued, motioning at Tony who was standing right beside him-- not that Phil would be able to see that. Tony just blew a raspberry at the physicist.

The agent clicked off the device to tuck it into the interior pocket of his jacket. "I don't know what to tell you, Dr. Banner," he said apologetically. "He doesn't seem harmful to me. He's probably just looking for a friend in the afterlife."

"I don't know where you found this guy, but he's got a gift," Tony said, nodding rapidly.

"I don't have time for--" Bruce bit off his words, tugging his hands through his hair. "He can't stay," he repeated firmly.

"Why not?" Phil asked. "This place should be big enough for the both of you."

"Definitely!" Tony agreed, getting more and more excited about the proposition of combined residency. "It's over five thousand square feet! If you count the laboratory and the garage. Designed it myself with my very own software," he said proudly, though Coulson wasn't getting any benefit from his bragging.

The physicist didn't seem to have anything to say to that, wringing his hands.

"I don't mean to be a bother, but do you have anything to drink?" Coulson asked then, readjusting the tie around his neck.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Dr. Banner apologized, pulling his glasses off his nose to fold them into his front pocket. "I can put a kettle of water on the stove, if you'd like," he offered.

Tony blanched, sticking out his tongue again. "That leafy-water is all he ever drinks," he slandered conversationally, pretending the agent could hear his commentary. Which he couldn't. But Tony didn't care.

Phil just nodded. "That would be pleasant."

They all headed to the kitchen. It was only a few minutes later the pot was whistling and Bruce pulled it off the heat, pouring the steaming liquid into a mug and adding a teabag to let it steep.

"So you're really advising I just… let him stay?" Bruce asked, setting the cup in front of Coulson. He readily went back to wringing his hands. "That can't be the only answer. Couldn't you talk to him with one of your instruments and tell him he should pass on? You have to have something like that, don't you?"

"Or, you know, you could just accept what the guy has already told you," Tony folded his arms sassily.

Bruce turned to give him a harsh glare. "I'm ignoring you."

"Not doing a very good job of it," Tony pointed out in rebuttal.

Phil's eyebrow lifted, pausing the dunking he'd been doing with the teabag. No doubt his interest was piqued now that Bruce was talking to (what appeared to him to be) himself. He lifted the mug and took a careful sip, not interrupting.

"I've asked him to move on," Bruce explained, motioning in his direction again. "He won't do it. He won't even accept that he's dead."

"Because I'm not!" Tony threw up his hands in exasperation. "Ghost, yes. Dead, no! They're not mutually exclusive!"

Dr. Banner's forehead wrinkled. "You mean collectively exhaustive?"

The engineer opened his mouth and then shut it, puzzling the logical statement over. "I think it's both…" he mumbled, scratching the back of his head, temporarily distracted.

"What's going on?" Coulson asked then, peering at Bruce first and then the general vicinity where Tony stood.

"It's nothing," Bruce lied.

"Nothing??" Tony got out, incredulous. "I swear, it's like you think this whole thing isn't bothering _me_ one iota." He began to gesticulate in frustration. "Like you're the _only_ one inconvenienced by it. Listen, I know something's different, that something's not right, okay? I'm walking through furniture and walls here." He stepped into the refrigerator and back out of it, showing off said fact. "Now I'm a talented guy, but not _that_ talented." He narrowed his eyes at Bruce. "What happened to where you said you 'just wanted to help me out', huh? Because I _distinctly_ recall you saying that."

That actually got the physicist to avert his gaze down to the floor, looking contrite.

Coulson had gotten out his EMF meter at some point during the exchange; he was poking at it on the table. "You know, I don't think I can help you out, Dr. Banner," he said, shaking his head slightly from side to side. "This is one of the most alive spirits I've ever encountered in my time on the field." His voice became perfectly frank. "He's not going anywhere."

Bruce's brow twitched. "What… what do you mean by that?"

The agent shrugged. "I agree with him; he may not possess a corporeal form, but he's not dead." The statement hung in the air between the three of them for a long moment. Tony didn't know what to say (an unusual circumstance for him, admittedly), and Bruce was equally bereft. Yeah, this was technically a win for him, but the question of how to proceed was… well, questionable. Phil was the first to speak up again. "Dr. Banner, if I could make a suggestion… I've been through some of your files…"

Tony could see the physicist's whole body visibily tense with discomfort. "You have?" he asked anxiously, wetting his lips and glancing about the room hesitantly, almost as if searching for quick escape routes.

Phil nodded. "I think it would be wise to modify your focus. You've been losing sleep looking for a solution, but maybe there isn't one. I know it might be difficult with all you've been through, but you need to let him go."

Bruce scoffed. "How can I, when he won't leave?" Tony felt himself bristle again.

"Not your spirit guy," Coulson corrected. "I'm talking about the Other Guy." He stepped towards Banner, who stood petrified, rooted to the spot and eyes unblinking. "The one you're keeping locked up inside here," the agent said, poking a hand to his chest. "That's what's really bothering you, isn't it?"

"You S.H.I.E.L.D. people really don't know how to stay out of other peoples' business, do you?" Bruce spat angrily, taking a quick step away from the agent, distrust and warning in his eyes. "You just meddle without compunction like it's some God-given right!"

"Whoa, now, time out," Tony made a T out in front of himself with his hands. "'Other Guy'?" he questioned, staring at Bruce. "Who is he talking about?"

"It's no one!" the scientist snapped at him.

"Bruce, c'mon," Tony spread out his arms, "you can trust me. Why do you insist on being so closed off??" he demanded, starting to get a little peeved. He was just curious. Where was the harm in a little curiosity among scientists?

"You wouldn't understand!" Bruce growled, slamming down his hands down on the tabletop. The wood splintered and cracked beneath his two curled fists, which were a vivid color of green. Tony jumped, eyes widening at the sight of them. Bruce looked up at him in alarm-- his irises shone the same incredible hue-- and the physicist bolted from the room, hastening for the back exit.

Tony was so shocked he didn't quite know how to react, just standing there staring down at his damaged table, trying to process what he'd just witnessed. Phil however stood, drinking the remainder of his tea and taking the mug over to the sink. Tony found his voice, crowding over to him. "You… you _knew_ about that?" he asked the agent, even though he already knew asking was unlikely to get him an answer from someone who couldn't hear, let alone see, him.

Coulson turned to depart, but before he did, he paused in the threshold and addressed the kitchen at large. "You're not the only one with problems, Tony."

The engineer felt his mouth fall open a little. "Wait, how do you know my name…? Did Bruce tell you on the way over? What do you know about me?" he interrogated, chasing after him, but it was really no good. The agent collected his briefcase and left the house without another word. "I can't believe this…" Tony groaned, tugging on his own hair. He glanced toward the backdoor, which had been left open, a seaside breeze carrying in through the portal and rustling the blinds. He needed to talk to Bruce, he decided. His feet carried him out the door, leaving it open considering he was physically incapable of closing it, and he glanced around cursorily. Where had he gone?

And then he spotted him. Or, well, what he had become.

A hulking green humanoid was sitting in the sand, ripped and tattered clothing skattered around him, the surf just barely licking his ginormous green toes. Tony licked his lips and cautiously approached. "Bruce?" he attempted to get his attention.

The creature turned its head with a snort, face screwed up into an ugly scowl. For a moment Tony was afraid he would attack him, but then he remembered he was a ghost and really didn't have to worry about that sort of thing anymore, and besides, the other man didn't even move to make an attempt. Instead he took a couple more lumbering breaths, huge chest expanding and contracting. The innovator plucked up his courage (again, not like he had anything to worry about) and walked over to plop down beside him in the sand. The beast didn't object, looking back out at the ocean. Tony couldn't stop admiring him. He had to be about nine feet tall and a good thousand or more pounds, covered in that much raw bulging muscle. His skin looked thick, like a rhinoceros', huge veins spiderwebbing underneath it and visibily pulsing. He was astounding. No, amazing. There had to be some word to describe it… Incredible. There it was!

After a few moments, the creature began to gradually shrink, green fading back into flesh tone; Tony watched with awe-- never before had he witnessed something so breath-taking in all his life. He could hear bones readjusting and tendons shortening… it actually sounded pretty painful. Finally it was Bruce-- regular Bruce, minus a shirt-- sitting beside him. The physicist turned his head away from him in bitter mortification. "I didn't want you to have to see that…" he said, voice retaining a gravelly quality.

"What? You mean that awesome Mr. Hyde thing you got going?" Tony asked, face lit up with a huge grin.

Bruce stared daggers at him. Tony coughed into his hand. "Sorry," he apologized quickly, recognizing he wasn't being very sensitive on the matter. "It occurs to me now that I… well, I probably don't know you very well." He let the statement hang.

The other man didn't say anything. Tony traced a finger through the sand, but it left no mark behind. "I built this place out here thinking I might add a particle accelerator one day… string it out along underneath the beachfront or something… at least I think," he shrugged, memory hazy. "Sorry. I'm babbling. Again. I tend to do that," he gave a chagrinned chuckle and hugged his legs, forcing himself to go silent.

Finally Bruce spoke up. "It's a nice location." His gaze dropped. "The sound of water has always calmed him down."

His interest perked. "So this guy… that's inside you… or that you can change into rather…" he started to ask.

"The Hulk," Bruce said solemnly. "His name is the Hulk."

"The Hulk…" Tony tested it on his tongue once or twice, liking it. "Apt name. What happened back there, in the kitchen?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Bruce mumbled.

Oh, back to this again. Tony resisted rolling his eyes and tried to be diplomatic. "That's alright. We don't have to talk about it right now."

"I don't want to talk about it, _ever_ ," Bruce clarified. The physicist grabbed onto the front of his stretched pants so they wouldn't fall down as he stood. He started to march back to the house; Tony jumped up to pursue him. He didn't know where Bruce was intending to go, but he wasn't about to let him out of his sight until he got to the bottom of things.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never seen the Marvel One-Shot movie-short The Consultant, make sure you do!: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xkt77j_marvel-one-shot-the-consultant_shortfilms

It had been the walk-in closet of the master bedroom that Bruce was headed to, so he could replace the clothes he had accidentally shredded during transformation. Tony hung out by the closet door, giving the physicist privacy but still keeping within earshot. "It's too bad none of my clothes are still hanging around," he commented off-handedly, "I would've let you borrow some. I had more than I could ever wear myself anyway. At least, that's what I seem to remember…" he trailed off; it was annoying how he could recall bits and pieces from his former existence, but nothing more solid than his first name and the fact he once owned beachfront property and well, a lot of clothes now apparently.

Bruce emerged in a pair of dark khakis, an unadorned baseball cap, and a red pullover hoodie. Tony lifted an eyebrow at the choice of dress, the guy had never worn something so casual-- he'd always stuck to slacks and button-up shirts from what he'd seen. But then his gaze lowered, catching on what Bruce was carrying with him from the closet-- it was a suitcase.

"What is this?" Tony threw his hands out in exasperation. The doctor walked right past him, on the way to the bed, where he set the luggage on top of the mattress. "Oh come on. Don't," he took a stern voice, but Bruce ignored him, opening it up and turning to go back to the closet for the rest of his belongings. Tony kept right on his heels. "This isn't funny. What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Packing," Banner said simply, draping his shirts over an arm.

"Uh, _yeah_ , I can see that," Tony rolled his eyes. "What do you think I am, stupid? I _mean_ , don't you think you're being just a _little_ hasty here? Do you even have any idea where you're going?" he asked.

Dr. Banner looked at him. "Yeah. Wherever the soonest international flight is going."

Tony would've thought that answer was a bluff if it weren't for the dozens of stickers that decorated the outside of Bruce's old worn suitcase-- exotic places, like India and Brazil and Malaysia. It stunned Tony to realize in that moment how well-travelled Dr. Banner was. Immediately he began to question why, what it was that made him move from place to place. Was it because of his ability to transform? To become the Hulk? The man continued to stack his clothes into the suitcase.

"You're really going leave, just like that?" Tony posed snidely. "What about your research? You're going to just up and abandon it?"

Bruce didn't seem to be listening to his line of reasoning, focused exclusively on packing. "You should be happy," he commented as he laid his folded slacks into the baggage, "this is what you wanted to begin with."

Tony felt his stomach clench; he quickly affixed his gaze elsewhere. He'd changed his mind since then. He'd been wrong. And stupid. Mostly the latter. But he didn't know how to go about admitting that. Without Bruce around, his lab would be empty… _dead_. He'd be all alone. A ghost haunting an abandoned laboratory for who knew how many years to come. Sure, someone else might end up renting the place, but what if the new tenant couldn't see him? Where would he be then? Mentally Tony began to panic.

Bruce was the only shot he had.

"Besides, Agent Coulson said I should let you stay," the physicist went on as he added a few pairs of shoes to the bag. He straightened and looked the engineer in the eyes. "That's _exactly_ what I'm doing."

"He never said _you_ should _go_ ," Tony attempted to point out, feeling his throat tighten. He grasped at straws, anything to talk him out of going.

"He also never said I shouldn't," came the matter-of-fact reply.

The innovator huffed and shook his head at the display of complete stubborness and unwillingness to listen-- not that he was one to talk on that note normally. He held back and watched a while longer as Dr. Banner gathered his toothbrush and a few scant toiletries from the bathroom. There didn't seem to be any hesitation in Bruce's movements-- the way he glided swiftly around the room, exhibiting none of the 'Now what am I forgetting…?' ailment Tony himself often experienced when packing for a trip. No, Bruce had done this before, perhaps many times before. It was rehearsed, practiced. Somehow that made Tony feel even worse. He couldn't let him go. He _wouldn't_. For either of their sakes. He spoke up again. "But I think that's what Coulson _meant_. That we should _both_ stay," he explained. He began to gesture with his hands, "Like maybe you and I, we could somehow help each other."

Bruce paused, and Tony wondered if he'd finally gotten through to the other guy. Slowly he turned around to regard him. "That's nice. That's a nice sentiment," he said softly, bobbing his head before giving him a steely stare. " _How?_ "

That put him on the spot. As much as he believed his theory with his whole being, he couldn't explain it. The engineer bit at his lower lip, glancing off to the side. "I don't know…" he was forced to admit.

The physicist gave a confirming 'hm' and clicked his suitcase shut. He picked it up from the bed and started to walk from the room, pulling the brim of his hat lower over his eyes.

"This isn't gonna help, you know," Tony raised his voice as he rushed after him, through the living room and out the front door.

"Yeah, how do you figure?" the physicist asked deadpan. "Have you ever run from anything in your life?" Bruce's brown eyes bore down on him, challenging him… daring him for an answer.

He would have answered if he could. He wished he could remember. He… _felt_ like he had, but he couldn't be sure. Not with his memory all screwed around like this. Tony let his head droop, severing eye-contact. Bruce used the silence to lock the house and he picked up his bag to place it in the trunk of his old clunker of a car sitting out in the driveway.

Finally Banner spoke again. "I can't stay, Tony. I'm not asking you to understand, I'm just asking you to accept it."

Tony felt his lips purse hard. "Fine. But I'm at least going with you to the airport," he said, coming around to the passenger's side of the vehicle. It was a lie, a bold-faced lie, because _goddamn it_ if he couldn't convince Bruce to stay, he'd damn well follow him to the edges of the globe. He had nothing to lose. Except Bruce.

"I wish you wouldn't," the physicist said, a weariness in his voice.

"Too bad," Tony replied succinctly, using his gaseousness to slip through the locked car door and right into the seat. "And yeah, I'm calling shotgun, deal with it," he added.

 

Tony was a little surprised when Dr. Banner took the freeway junction towards the San Gabriel Mountains rather than Los Angles. He sat up in his seat somewhat, watching the green and white sign go by. "I thought you were headed to the airport?" he inquired.

Bruce pinched his tongue between his lips unforthcomingly, keeping both his hands firmly on the wheel at 10 and 2. "I just have some matters to put in order first."

The engineer hummed at the answer, folding his arms and leaning back again to prop his feet on the dashboard. They wound along the mountain roads back and forth, climbing in altitude. A few minutes later a large security gate came into view, and Bruce brought the car to a stop and manually rolled down the window to show the person manning the station booth his identification. They nodded and brought the gate up, waving him through (little did they know Dr. Banner had an unauthorized 'invisible' guest with him, Tony thought to himself). The innovator lifted an eyebrow as he eyed the designation beside the entrance: Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division. "Wait, you work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he asked, confused. Hadn't Bruce just chewed out Coulson for being part of the agency?

"Work isn't quite the right word," Bruce mumbled as he found a parking spot. He killed the ignition and threw his baseball cap up on the dash. "I suppose it would be too much to ask that you wait in the car?"

"You know me too well already," Tony stuck out his tongue. The physicist merely nodded and got out, heading for the facility entrance. There were several more checkpoints they had to pass through once on the inside before they finally got to what appeared to be the front desk. Sure kept a tight lock and key on everything, the innovator noticed, and everyone was so stern and regimented it made him want to barf a little. Dr. Banner cautiously walked up to the woman working behind the desk. "Excuse me, I was wondering if Agent Romanoff was available; she's my contact."

The secretary quickly accessed some things on the computer in front of her. "Ah yes, she is currently on-site; I'll page her. if you proceed to Room 47A, she will be with you at her earliest convienence." There was a fleeting, mandatory smile and then it was back to business.

"Thank you," Bruce said, ducking his head and removing himself from the front desk area.

"Romanoff… now where do I know that…?" Tony mumbled under his breath, following the physicist down the hall. He was still mulling it over when they got to the room; Bruce even held the door for him with no one else around to see. It was a fairly bland meeting room, furnished to provide relaxation with a few plastic potted plants, a water dispenser, and a sofa. He threw himself into the corner of the piece of furniture, lounging an arm over the rest. Bruce, meanwhile, paced the room, seeming on-edge, despite the attempts of the decor. Tony watched him go back and forth several times. "Are you gonna sit down?" the engineer asked him.

Dr. Banner wet his lips. "I'm comfortable standing."

"Doesn't really look like you are," Tony started to contest, but that was when the door opened from the hall. He turned to look over the back of the couch and saw a curvaceous woman in a skin-tight leather uniform, bearing the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo on the shoulder. Her hair was a vibrant, unmistakable color of blood red, bobbed short to her jawline with matching lipstick. Tony gawked. Not just because she was good to look at either. _Another_ familiar face. How did he know so many of the people Bruce knew and yet not? There was something different about her hair though... Maybe the length? She'd probably cut it, Tony concluded.

She looked surprised to see the man before her. "Dr. Banner…" she started to say as she shut the door behind her.

Bruce stepped forward. "Miss Romanoff, I need to terminate my contract." He was to-the-point.

The woman looked stunned, but she quickly masked the emotion. "May I ask why?"

He looked away. "Extenuating circumstances," he responded elusively.

"Oh, so now I'm an 'extenuating circumstance', that's nice," Tony grumbled, slouching lower into the couch, feeling put out.

"That's not what I meant…" Bruce frowned at him apologetically.

Natasha's brow drew down, her red eyebrows furrowing in the middle. "Then what did you mean, doctor?"

The physicist coughed into his fist, having accidentally put himself in an awkward position. "I, uh… I had an incident," he explained, wringing his hands.

"An 'incident'?" Tony questioned, "is that what you call it? Well that sure makes it sound like a bad thing."

"It _is_ a bad thing," Bruce growled at him.

The Russian woman now looked even more concerned, folding her arms across her chest as she took a solid stance. "Bruce… have your hallucinations been continuing to persist? How much sleep have you been able to get on a regular basis?"

The man visibily seized up. "Six hours," he answered stiffly.

Tony snorted, rolling his eyes at the blantant lie as he shifted on the couch. "Try three."

"Five, _minimum_ ," Bruce corrected, giving him a glare. He hurriedly regarded Natasha once more. "Listen, the contract I signed said I could terminate at any time, for any reason. I'd rather just get this done and be on my way."

The agent sighed. "I wish it hadn't come to this, doctor, but I suppose there's nothing I can do to persuade you to stay," she sounded geniunely regretful. The woman pulled up a computer console, beginning to enter in validation codes to get the process under way. Bruce came over to supervise, putting on his glasses so he could look over the screen. "I'll just need you to add your digital signature to these documents." She paused, looking at him seriously. "Please understand, however, that once termination is complete, S.H.I.E.L.D. will no longer be able to operate in the interests of protecting you from interested parties as we have in the past."

Tony's ears perked up, gut churning. No, no, this all seemed way too familiar. His eyes snapped from Natasha to Bruce and back to Natasha. Tony had been involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. before, been consulted. Coulson. By Coulson! Coulson had asked him to be a patsy… he'd met with an army General. The Super Soldier Serum. Blonsky. Things were starting to come back to him! He snapped his fingers. Bruce Banner. The gamma radiation accident. Of course! He remembered hearing about it on the news. Tony stared at the physicist standing beside Miss Romanoff as if seeing him through new eyes. He'd never met the guy before, but he'd read his file before agreeing to go along with the patsy scheme. If it hadn't been for S.H.I.E.L.D.'s decision to intervene, who knew how things would have gone down… if Bruce would even be standing here today or if he'd be locked up and being experimented upon. Banner had still been blamed for the accident in Harlem, but after that he'd just vanished into the woodwork and allowed to live in relative peace under minimal S.H.I.E.L.D. supervision. If he were to no longer have that, he'd be in potentially grave danger.

"I understand," Bruce confirmed.

Tony stood bolt upright from his seat. "Bruce, you _can't_ go."

The interruption caused the physicist to falter a split second. "I've made up my mind." He shook his head and turned back to the computer to enter his signature.

"Don't," Tony said firmly, taking a step forward. "I'm not saying it again: this is your last chance." He lifted a finger warningly.

"And just what are you going to do to stop me?" the physicist motioned at him with a sardonic laugh. At this point Natasha looked just plain disturbed by what was transpiring. Bruce placed his fingers upon the keyboard.

Tony didn't think; he instinctually leapt. Right into Dr. Banner-- not through him, but _into_ him, such that the younger scientist's body and his own spirit form became temporarily one. Tony yanked Bruce's fingers away from the keyboard, now in control of them, and with a laugh of success, he picked the keyboard up and threw it to the floor with a crash.

Miss Romanoff leapt backward. "Bruce, what are you--??"

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Dr. Banner yelped, but Tony didn't give him control of his body back yet. He grabbed the monitor and threw it at the ground as well, resulting in flying sparks and shards of glass. Good luck signing that termination document now!

Natasha had nabbed a radio transmitter off her belt and was speaking into the crackling device. "I'm requesting back-up in Room 47A… I have a man who needs to be removed from the premise immediately…"

"No no no! Please, this isn't-- it's not what you think!" Bruce attempted to change her mind, but Tony made sure she wouldn't be by using the physicist's body to hurtle one of the potted plants across the room at the wall. He attacked the couch next, skattering the cushions and pillows willy-nilly.

The door opened once more, and two large, burly men surged forward, grabbing the Bruce/Tony amalgamation by either arm. Dr. Banner gave a few helpless kicks as they drug him from the room, blithering at Natasha until she disappeared from view. His head sagged in defeat, going slack and letting the security agents take him beyond the checkpoints and out to his vehicle. "We'll be escorting you out now. Follow us please," the larger one said, unceremoniously tossing Bruce into his car. The jolt caused Tony to fall out of the other man's body and tumble into the next seat over.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Tony said, flattening out his disarranged hair.

"Goddamn it, Tony! Why the Hell did you do that??" Bruce demanded. His eyes were ringed with green, but the color gradually faded away. The two security agents got on their motorbikes and positioned themselves to the fore and aft of the vehicle, turning on their red and blue flashing lights.

"Hey! You're gonna thank me for that one day," Tony said, folding his arms across his chest and trying not to look _too_ smug that he'd saved Dr. Banner's bacon.

The younger scientist started the engine begrudgingly and began to follow the motorcycle in front of him. "For what? Damaging my reputation with S.H.I.E.L.D.?" he grimaced.

The innovator rolled his eyes. "Oh please. These guys deal with eighteen different kinds of crazy in any given day. I doubt your little 'hissy-fit' is going to result in anything more than a temporary suspension and you'll be back in their good graces like nothing ever happened in a week."

Bruce took a deep breath, calming somewhat at the words. They drove in silence. The two cyclists peeled off to return to the facility once he'd passed back through the gate, which was locked behind them. The physicist kept his eyes on the windy road; the weather had gotten significantly more overcast while they were inside and the sun was starting to set behind the hills. "Why are you still here?" he asked solemnly.

Tony stared out the passenger window, chin rested in his hand that was propped on the armrest contemplatively. "That's kind of a scary question. I have no idea…" he admitted honestly. He motioned with his other hand absently. "You're still the only one who's been able to see me, out of everyone there at the site."

"Yeah," Bruce uttered.

The engineer nibbled at his lower lip. "All I know is when I'm not with you, it's like I don't… exist…" he said sadly, glancing down into his lap. He shut his eyes. "Maybe Coulson was wrong. Maybe I _am_ dead." He brought his hand up to touch the empty socket in his chest-- where he knew his reactor ought to be, keeping him alive, but it wasn't there… and goddamn it, now that he'd allowed himself to think about it again, he was scared. Terrified.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I don't know…" Bruce softly. The physicist hesitated a moment, then reached over to place his hand reassuringly over his thigh-- which only half-worked, being a ghost and all, but the gesture was kind all the same.

He choked up. "If I could just remember more about who I am. …Or was… Then I'd know for sure." He shook his head, gesturing his hands out in front of him in frustration. "I keep getting these little bits and pieces… but it's not enough."

Dr. Banner wet his upper lip carefully. "You want me to help you?" he asked, looking away from the road to glance at him.

Tony shrugged. "Well, it's either that or you finally accept that you're an insane person, driving around So Cal talking to himself." His mouth betrayed a teasing smile.

Bruce shook his head, the smile infectious and catching on his own lips. "Ah… I'm not really big on that one." He returned his attention out the windshield. "Tomorrow morning, we'll see what we can find out, sound alright to you?"

His chest swelled with appreciation. The engineer grinned happily, eyes crinkling. "Sounds great, Big Guy."

Banner's forehead scrunched at the spontaneous nickname. "Big Guy?"

"Yeah, I think it fits," Tony said. "But I don't have to use it, if it bothers you," he quickly amended.

"No, it's fine. …It's kind of funny actually," Bruce smiled, just a little.


	7. Chapter 7

It was well after dark by the time they got back to the house on the beach. The moon illuminated the long circular driveway as Bruce pulled up to the house. He cut the headlights and then the ignition. He opened the door and stepped out of his car, chuckling at the way Tony just phased through his door in order to get out, almost as if it were second-nature at this point. They went inside and Bruce squinted into the darkness beyond, putting his hands out to search the wall for the control panel so he could raise the lights. It took a couple seconds of fumbling, but he got it, the can lights above them illuminating sequentially into a path that spread through the rest of the house, bathing it in soft incandescents.

"You know, you don't have to do that manually; you could just have JARVIS do it," Tony said matter-of-factly.

Bruce felt an eyebrow lift-- he had no idea what Tony was talking about. "JARVIS?"

"Yeah, he's my AI system. Or, well, he was," the engineer's spirit explained with a shrug. "Kinda like my butler, security guard, and home automation, all wrapped into one," he went on, as if that weren't any big deal at all. He rubbed the hair on his chin. "Guess he must have gotten disabled when the place got put up for rent. But I'd think you should still be able to re-activate him. Try 'Run Sequence: JARVIS'," he suggested.

"Okay…" Bruce hesitated, looking around a moment, not sure where to make said command; he addressed the room at large, "Uh… Run Sequence: JARVIS?"

There was an electrical hum, followed by a brief whir before a polite, British-accented voice made itself known, "Greetings, Dr. Banner. It is a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself. I am JARVIS, at your service. Is there anything I can do at present to make you more comfortable?"

He was kind of blown away by the courtesy being shown to him by an articifial intelligence program-- for all the world it sounded like he was being spoken to by a real person. He also didn't question how it knew his name. "Well… it's a little cool in here…" he said, rubbing at his arms through his hoodie.

JARVIS got right on it. "I have increased the thermostat by two degrees. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yeah, thanks," he responded, still incredibly impressed by the sophistication of the technology. He turned to the apparition standing beside him. "Tony, why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"Uhh, you never asked?" the ghost scientist said, then laughed. "To be honest, I didn't even remember until just now."

That gave Bruce a sudden idea. "Well does he remember you?" he posed.

Tony blinked, obviously that hadn't even occurred to him. "You know, I don't know."

Bruce spoke up to address the AI once again. "JARVIS, do you have any information on your previous owner? The guy who lived here before me?" He waited hopefully.

"I am afraid I cannot provide you with that information, as it has been erased from my data banks," the program explained cordially.

The physicist frowned, shoulders sagging a bit. "Well, it was a good thought," Tony said to cheer him up; he nodded and moved towards the kitchen.

He filled his teakettle with water and placed it on the stove to heat, staring out the window at the beach beyond. The dark-haired man didn't tease him this time about his tea-consumption like Bruce had half expected him to, standing at a respectful distance behind him with both hands in his pockets. Bruce realized he really ought to try to make some conversation-- even if he wasn't terribly good at that anymore. His fingers drifted across the marble countertop thoughtfully. "This place actually is pretty amazing," Bruce admitted then, glancing over at Tony. "You really designed it yourself?"

"Uh huh. With my own software, like I said." The man's brown eyes were bright with enthusiasm; he was either excited to get to talk about his design or thrilled that Bruce had initiated a dialogue between them. "Though it's really just an off-shoot of AutoCAD that can be manipulated holographically. I found working on three-dimensional projects on a two-dimensional screen far too limiting, so I gave it a little boost." He winked.

"I remember using that program back in the eighties," Bruce chuckled. "Had it installed on the lab computer next to my Commodore 64."

Tony snorted, and loudly. "Now _that's_ a blast from the past. Did you have Galaga?"

Bruce's face twitched with amusement. "No, I don't think so."

"I was _beast_ at Galaga," Tony nodded, nostalgia apparent in his eyes. He extended his index fingers and began shooting the air with them like aliens were descending from the sky. " _Pew pew pew!_ " The antics caused a laugh to rumble up Dr. Banner's throat. "Watch out, there's one right above your head!" the other man got out in alarm. Bruce looked up and Tony motioned exasperatedly. "You let it get you! You were supposed to shoot it!"

He realized then how much Phil had been right. Tony was just looking for someone to be friends with. Ever since the accident, Bruce had been afraid to make friends… afraid that the Other Guy would end up hurting them. But Tony wasn't even able to _be_ physically hurt-- the Hulk couldn't so much as lay a finger on him if he wanted to. Tony was safe. "Sorry," Bruce apologized jokingly, "I didn't realize we were playing Two-Player." His teakettle began to whistle and he took it off the heat. Which was when another thing stuck out in his mind. Tony had _seen_ the Hulk, come face-to-face with him. For most people that would have been enough to scare them off forever, yet here Tony was still clowning around with him, trying to make him smile and laugh. He placed a teabag into a cup and poured it full before looking over at the other scientist. "So you're really okay with the fact that I turn into a big green freak?"

Tony immediately turned the question on its head. "Is there any reason I shouldn't be?"

"Most people find him… intimidating."

"Well, he's big, and green. But the only other guy I know like that is always smiling at me on a package of frozen peas."

Bruce averted his gaze to the floor with a chuckle. If there was one thing the Hulk was not, it was 'jolly'. But he appreciated the light humor nonetheless. The idea that anyone could accept him as he was felt… foreign, and though he was still conflicted about forming a relationship with the apparition of a man who couldn't even remember who he was, he felt a kind of… ease in his presence. Bruce picked up his teacup and stirred it thoughtfully with a spoon. "Guess I should consider changing out of these clothes now that I'm not bailing out of the country anymore," he commented over the lip of the cup as he took a sip (it needed more time to steep anyhow).

Tony's reaction was about what he'd expected-- the man beamed. But he hid it behind a healthy dose of snark. "Red _so_ isn't your color anyway," the ghost evaluated, plopping himself into the leather sofa in the living room. "Better reserved for handsome devils like me. I bet it was one of my favorite colors, back when I used to remember that kind of thing," he motioned absently.

Dr. Banner grinned at the jab and moved toward the bedroom as he removed the pull-over. He went into the walk-in closet to hang it up, when he spotted a scrap of paper on the floor he hadn't noticed before. He stooped to pick it up and adjusted his glasses on his nose to get the focal length right. It looked like a dry-cleaning pick-up receipt. "Hey, Tony," he said, going back out to the living room.

"Yeah?" the spirit turned around in his seat.

"I found something. Did you use to use Trancas Tailors and Cleaners?" He held it up.

Tony got up out of his seat to look at the small piece of paper. "It kind of rings a bell… I think."

"Look, there's also a phone number written on the back… for Miss…? I can't make that out," he frowned at the scrawl following the salutation.

"Brady, maybe…?" Tony took a swing. "Brown? It's not my handwriting." He gave a shrug and smiled perkily. "Either way, know what this means? We've got some hopeful leads to get us started tomorrow morning!"

Dr. Banner nodded in agreement, giving the spirit a smile before turning to go back to the bedroom.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tony spoke up before he could get too far.

"Hm?" the physicist turned back toward him.

The apparation looked down at his feet. "Listen, I wanted to uh… apologize for how pushy and all that I've been. First with wanting you to go, then wanting you to stay…" he motioned his hands left, then right. He chuckled sheepishly, dragging a hand through his permanently gelled hair. "I know I'm not always the easiest person to get along with. So I really, _really_ appreciate you're willing to take time out of your work and do this for me." The brown eyes were forthcoming and sincere.

Bruce could tell it had taken a lot for the guy to say what he just had. He nodded, accepting the apology. After all, he felt he had his own to give as well. "And I'm sorry for trying to run away," he said softly. "I'm afraid that's become kind of a gut-reaction for me when something unexpected happens…" He paused to wet his lips. "I guess it never occurred to me until now that just because something's unexpected, it doesn't always equate to it being bad."

Tony's face filled with unquelled emotion. He, too, nodded.

After holding gazes a moment more, he broke off and set about bringing the evening to a close. He felt he stood a reasonable chance of sleeping well tonight-- he usually slept like a rock on the nights he'd suffered an incident (God, had he been glad the Other Guy hadn't chosen to wander far or do any damage this time). He changed into his only pair of flannel pajamas, finished his tea, putting the cup in the sink, and last but not least brushed his teeth. Tony was sitting patiently in the armchair by the bed when he got done and Bruce regarded him with gentle concern. "Are you gonna be okay the rest of the night?" He knew, after all, there was no such thing as sleeping for the ghost-- he either existed or he didn't-- and Bruce could only imagine that made for several pretty lonely hours.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Tony gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me. You've had a long day, I'd say you've earned some down-time."

Dr. Banner chuckled as he plucked off his glasses, folding them up to put on the nightstand within reach. He slid into bed underneath the covers and requested JARVIS shut off the lights; the AI graciously acquiesced. The physicist glanced over at Tony in the dark. Before he'd found it a little creepy when the ghost watched him sleep, but ever since what had happened at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ earlier he couldn't shake the feeling that once, long ago, Tony had protected him somehow. And that given the opportunity, he would again. He spoke up softly. "Goodnight, Tony."

"'Night, Bruce," the man returned. And with that Bruce drifted off into the comforts of an uninterrupted, nightmare-less slumber.

 

Bruce parked the car alongside the street of Trancas Tailors and Cleaners, dry cleaning receipt in hand. He and Tony entered together, the small bell on the door jingling as they came in. A short asian man hurried out from the back area to the counter to come to their service. "You have pick-up?" he asked with a slight accent.

"Yeah," Dr. Banner fiddled with the sales ticket a moment before extending it to the man, trying to figure out the best way to ask about the ghost standing beside him. "I'm doing a pick-up for a friend…" he explained.

The man's eyes narrowed at the invoice and he shook his head. "These pants were _very_ expensive," he said, "Armani. Had big wine stain, hard to get out."

Beside him Tony chuckled and leaned back on a hip. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Do you remember anything about the man who dropped them off to be cleaned?" Bruce asked hopefully, wringing his fingers.

"Man?" the dry-cleaner looked at him skeptically and began jabbing the counter in front of him to punctuate his speech. "No man. Woman always drop off man's clothing. Always do lots of work for him. Very busy, all the time."

Bruce looked over at Tony, who only shrugged. "Maybe I had a maid?" he ventured a guess.

The fellow behind the counter went on, gesturing aggressively. "He never give her any break, always work harder. I think of him, I think of… arrogance, narcissism…"

Tony coughed loudly into his hand. "Oookay, I don't think we're getting much of anywhere here." He hooked his thumb in the direction of the exit. "Let's just get the pants and go."

"Uhh, can I get the pants?" Bruce asked, readjusting his glasses.

The asian fellow shook his head again and handed back the receipt. "Item left too long; we donate them to homeless shelter."

"A pair of _Armanis_??" Tony's jaw dropped. "Are you freaking kidding me? You could have at least sold them on eBay-- Jesus Christ."

"That's probably not written into company policy, Tony," Bruce leaned over and mumbled to him. "Um, thank you for your help," he thanked the cleaner and stepped toward the door, kind of wishing he could grab Tony by the collar and drag him out. If it weren't for the fact the ghost was invisible, he'd be making a scene.

"He _had_ to know what those were worth," the engineer continued to rant as he followed along back out to the car. "I mean, can you imagine? Some hobo sitting out on a street corner wearing a pair of Armani slacks?"

Bruce frowned, the conversation becoming a little too… personal for his tastes. Having been someone who _had_ sat out on street corners before, relying on the generosity of others, Tony's statement left him a bit disappointed in the ghost. "What would _you_ have done with them in your current state? Better someone have them who needs something to wear," he said with reproach.

Tony seemed to realize then that he had offended him and took a couple quick steps back in his logic. "Sorry. Yeah, no, you're absolutely right." He looked at the ground repentfully. "Hopefully they're getting good use out of them."

The physicist gave a slight sigh and got into the car. "Don't worry about it," he dismissed; he knew Tony was from a completely different class and wouldn't always think on the same wavelength as himself, so he wasn't about to stew over it needlessly. "Guess we ought to try this number and hope it works out better for us than the first lead," he said, turning the receipt over and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He keyed in the numbers and pressed call, putting the phone up to his ear as it began to ring.

A couple moments later a woman introduced herself. "Christine Everhart of Vanity Fair, how may I help you?"

"Uh, hello there, Christine…" he hesitated somewhat, wetting his lips-- the introduction didn't match the name the number had been attributed to. "This might sound a little odd, but I was wondering if you knew a certain man. Dark brunette, about five-foot-seven…"

"Eight. And a half," Tony quickly corrected.

Yeah right, maybe if he counted his hair. Bruce gave him an incredulous look and kept talking. "Goes by Tony?"

"Who is this??" the woman demanded suddenly. "Are you his new secretary?"

Bruce winced, pulling the phone away from his ear somewhat at the sudden volume. "I'm sorry, what?"

She continued on her diatribe. "Did he finally sack that bitch who was working for him before? Or maybe she finally left him; I wouldn't blame her, I know he treated her like _shit_. She's better off without him; _everyone_ is. Well if he ever wakes up, you can tell that big-mouthed, egotistical, misogynistic jerk that I'm never interested in being taken advantage of by him again; he can just forget it!" The call abruptly ended.

Well _that_ hadn't been at all what he'd expected. He stared at the phone and set it down. "Wow," was Bruce's only comment.

Tony coughed into his fist. "It was Brown. I remember her now. We had, um… a fling. She didn't take it well."

"She sounded legitimately upset, Anthony."

"It's Tony," the ghost reminded. He slouched in his seat somewhat, staring out the front windshield morosely. "The bad part is I'm pretty sure she wasn't the first…" He hugged himself, looking ashamed. "Maybe I was a jerk. A wretched, woman-hating, first-class jerk."

"I'm sure you had plenty of good qualities. This was just a bad sample set," Dr. Banner assured, not wanting the other scientist to beat himself up too badly. Self-depreciation only got a person so far before it stopped being helpful and started being harmful. He knew. "We'll find something about who you are. We shouldn't give up just yet," he said, starting the car. Maybe if they drove around town it would jog Tony's memory. He pulled back onto the coastal highway to get going.

Tony looked over at him and smiled. "You're really good at making a person feel better, you know that?"

Bruce gave a small chuckle, fingers brushing over the nobs of the steering wheel; he wasn't used to being complimented for something like that. "Thanks, I try," he responded.

"Oh oh! Hey hey!" Tony sat upright suddenly, waving his hands and pointing his finger. "I recognize that! Slow down!"

The physicist did as asked, pulling over once again and slowing to a stop. The place the spirit had been pointing at was a small, hole-in-the-wall eatery-- it didn't look like anything special. "The Shawarma Palace?" he read off the sign painted above the door.

"Yeah! I love this place!" Tony exclaimed.

"Did you eat here a lot?" Bruce asked, remembering how he'd declared his love of take-out not too long ago.

The apparition however, shook his head. "No, I never did. I mean, I always meant to, at some point." He shrugged. "I just never got around to it."

Well that wasn't much use. "Hm…" Dr. Banner hummed in thought. "Do you want to--"

A loud crack like a bullwhip sounded through the air, interrupting him and making both men jump in their seats. "What in the--?" Tony asked, leaning forward and peering out the windshield skyward. "Bruce, look!"

The physicist leaned forward as well and gawked at the massive hole in the sky-- it looked like an inter-dimensional portal, or well, what one was postulated to look like if you'd read up on the most recent breakthroughs on thermonuclear astrophysics. A beam of bright blue light descended at alarming speed from the rupture, creating a deafening _woosh_ and _boom_ as it collided with the ground a few miles out to the north. The whole ground shook with the impact, rattling every building and vehicle in a five mile radius. It was like standing at the epicenter of an earthquake, except the vibrations were much less sporadic, coming in waves that threatened to split the pavement.

"This is nooot good!" Tony gulped.

Bruce tried to keep his cool despite his rising heart rate. "Do you know what's going on?"

The ghost shook his head forcefully. "No, but I do know that when one of these things opens, something always comes through it, and usually, it's hostile."

People began flooding the streets, coming out of their homes and shops to find out what was going on. It hadn't felt like your run-of-the-mill California-earthquake after all. The hole in the sky swirled and a cluster of objects travelled downward through the light… Bruce squinted, but at this distance, he couldn't determine for sure what they were… but they looked large and… four-legged. As soon as the creatures touched down, the portal collapsed in on itself, taking the light beam with it, sucking it back into the vortex before imploding into nothingness.

For just a moment, there was quiet.

And then terrifying roars echoed through the air. The beasts charged through the street, ramming aside cars and crashing through storefronts with their massive horns. Now he could tell what they were-- bilgesnipe, creatures from Norse mythology thought not to exist. But quite obviously, they were making the point that they did very much exist. People began screaming and fleeing as fast as they were able. It was chaos.

"Bruce, you've got to do something!" Tony yelped.

The physicist gave him a flabbergasted look. "What am _I_ supposed to do?"

"You're the Hulk right? Transform and smash those things!" He hit his palm with his fist for emphasis. "They're going to completely destroy Malibu if you don't do _something_!" the ghost flailed his arms.

"Tony, I can't _control_ him," he explained seriously; Tony didn't get it, the Hulk wasn't something he could just turn off and on. If he let him loose now, he might take out the bilgesnipe, but once they were gone and there was nothing else to take out his rage against, the Hulk might wreak havoc even greater than the original threat. Bruce shook his head. "He'll probably do more harm than good." S.H.I.E.L.D. might be able to get here in an hour or two to take control of the situation, but until then, he didn't see any other options.

The scientist shook his head violently. "Fine. Then drive!"

"What?"

"I said drive! We've got to get back to my lab. _Now_."

Bruce stomped on the ignition and made a U, tires squealing as he put rubber to the pavement. He didn't know what could possibly be at the lab that could help in the occurrence of an unprecedented alien attack, but it had better be pretty good.


	8. Chapter 8

"Tony, what exactly are we doing here?" Bruce asked as he chased the ghost down the stairs to his lab.

"There's not a lot of time to explain," Tony said as he hurried over to the west wall and came to a sharp halt in front of it. He brushed his hands over the vertical surface before putting his fingers to his temples, kneeding them aggressively. "Okay, okay, _think_ ," he muttered loudly under his breath, obviously skatter-brained. "You can remember why this is important." The ghost began smacking the sides of his head with his palms.

Bruce stood back and let him… cogitate (if you could call it that) a minute, before taking a step forward and interrupting. "Tony…"

The engineer put out a hand to silence him. "There's a panel here, I know it…" he mumbled before eying the wall again. "Tell JARVIS… tell JARVIS to deploy the Mach VI!" he had the revelation.

Dr. Banner lifted an eyebrow-- he had no idea what a Mach VI was… a high-powered weapon, perhaps?-- but he made the request nonetheless. "JARVIS, could you deploy the Mach VI?"

"My apologies, but that function no longer exists within my database," the AI said.

"Damn it!" Tony threw up his hands in exasperation. "There has to be some manual way to get it to open…"

"Get what open?" Bruce asked. It was just an unoccupied wall of the lab and nothing more. The other man had memory problems, but he'd really lost his marbles this time.

"The panel! The thing right here in front of me!" Tony gestured exasperatedly. He paused, frowning, and grabbed his own wrist. "The activation bracelet…" he realized, snapping his fingers. Bruce watched as the spirit dashed across the room to a workdesk. "Get your ass over here already, I can't open this myself," he said, swiping his fingers through the handle of the drawer to prove his point. The physicist opened it to find a narrow wristband made of titanium sitting in the bottom of the drawer; he picked it up and adjusted his glasses to observe it closer. "Put it on, you're gonna need it," Tony said.

Bruce slipped it on his left wrist, since he kept his watch on his right. "What exactly is this going to do to help?" he asked, intrigued by the device but he didn't see how it could do much against a dozen or so bilgesnipe from space.

"There should be a little switch on the side-- flip it."

The doctor held his arm up to his face and squinted to see the miniscule button the spirit was talking about. "You mean this one?" he said as he depressed it with his thumb.

The west wall made a whir and Bruce jumped, looking up with wide eyes to watch the wall segment and unfold itself before them. It pulled back to reveal a suit of red and gold armor… not just armor, he quickly re-evaluated, but an entire articulated body-suit with a built-in high-tech propulsion system that was weaponized to boot. Lodged into the chestpiece was a glowing blue power-source.

"Aha!" Tony clapped his hands together and rushing forward. "What did I say?"

Okay, take back the lost marbles.

Ordinarily, Dr. Banner might have asked how Tony had known this was here, along with several follow-up questions. But instead he was drawn like a moth to light by the engineering marvel. "Tony, this is an incredible piece of machinery…" Bruce said, brushing his fingers over the metallic surface in awe. He was particularly mesmerized by the cylindrical insert in the center-- a miniaturized reactor. He'd read news articles about this kind of technology, but nothing in-depth since it was a privately-owned advancement. Astounding!

The ghost engineer grinned at him and winked. "Just wait 'til you get a look at the inside."

The physicist gave a small start, looking at him uncertainly over the ridge of his spectacles. "You expect me to put this on?"

Tony shook his head, still smiling like a chesire cat. "Not at all. Hit the other button, the bigger one, in the center."

Bruce looked down at the band again and the pair of squares etched onto the mentioned button. He could only assume pressing it would put the unit into auto-pilot mode, or perhaps remote control. He depressed it. To his great surprise a web of red laser shot out and scanned him from top to bottom, which was when he realized just how _wrong_ his assumption had been.

The doctor let out a yelp as the floor latched onto his feet, rendering him, for all intents and purposes, immobile. Mechanized arms shot out from the wall, dismantling the suit and beginning to encase him inside it, starting with his shins and moving up. He squirmed, but the run-sequence he had set in motion seemed perfectly capable of compensating for the movement. "Oh my God, _Tony!!_ "

"Did I mention it puts itself on? Yeah, so, no worries about ever having to put it on yourself," Tony gestured, leaning back on a hip as he just watched, smug as could be for his tricksy wordplay.

"Can you tell me just what the heck you expect me to _do_ in this??" Dr. Banner demanded as the chest piece clicked around him and the abdominal shielding extended out to latch with the piece around his hips.

"Kick ass?" Tony suggested, shrugging with a smirk.

"I don't even know how to work th--" Bruce started to say before the helmet was jammed over his head and the faceplate dropped down over his face. An entire display lit up in front of his eyes, killing the words in his throat as read-outs and information blipped to life in the forms of graphs and projection charts-- even _he_ found it challenging to keep up with the stream of information being supplied inside the headgear. Beyond it he could see the lab and Tony smiling proudly up at him.

"Don't worry, Big Guy, I'll give you a hand," he assured, coming forward. That now familiar cool sensation filled Dr. Banner as Tony stepped into him again and grabbed a hold of his physical body. The ghost flexed his fingers for him.

"So I assume you know what you're doing then?" Bruce asked seriously.

"It'll come to me as we go," Tony responded, shrugging their combined shoulder.

The physicist choked. He got the feeling he was about to embark on the ride of his life completely unprepared. Tony lifted their arm and blasted a beam of energy at the wall. "Holy-- what are you doing??" Bruce gawked at the now visible ocean-front beyond the crumbling hole.

"Don't worry, we'll fix it later," Tony assured and with that, he engaged the thrusters and shot them through the opening at break-neck speed.

Being the Hulk was one thing. Flying through the goddamn air at the speed of sound was another.

 

Dr. Banner was pretty damn sure hovering a thousand feet above the ground wasn't actually in any way necessary, but he'd been more focused on keeping his heart rate down than arguing with Tony at the present moment. It had been difficult enough to keep his breathing slow and even, but somehow, thank meditation, he had managed.

Tony meanwhile, had been searching the land beneath them. "I see the horny bastards. Good thing we didn't get here any later," the other man said.

Bruce eyed the screen as it keyed on the life-forms in the street and enlarged them for detail. It spat out estimated weights, heights, travelling velocities, impact forces, everything he could ever want to know and more. "Is there actually anything you need me to do?" he asked, quite aware his body was being used as little more than a puppet at the moment.

"Yeah, I need you to call out commands," the ghost responded. "I can't control everything manually, there's a fair amount that's voice-activated."

The physicist swallowed, but nodded, understanding the commitment. This wasn't his conventional method for helping people, but he guessed he didn't currently have much other choice. "Alright. You have a plan of attack?"

"Absolutely," Tony responded confidently. "Attack." He angled their body into a nosedive and shot them downward towards Malibu.

"A little warning next time!" Bruce gasped, eyes wide like saucers behind his glasses as the ground rushed up at them.

"Sorry!" the other scientist quickly apologized, simultaneously banking to bring them parallel to the earth only about thirty feet above it; Bruce's head spun as buildings and palm trees rushed by. "Okay, give me twenty-five percent output on the repulsor cannons," Tony said with determination. "I wanna see what these guys are made of."

"Twenty-five percent output to the repulsor cannons," he relayed to the suit; the hardware whirred and complied, charging up in the palms.

In no time they caught up to the bilgesnipe, and Tony extended both arms to fire a couple of bursts of energy at the one furthest in the rear. The creature reared up in fury, lifting onto its hindlegs and sweeping the air with its horns. It was only thanks to a pinpoint turn skyward on Tony's part that they didn't slam directly into the sharpened bones and get impaled. "Whoaaakay!" the spirit got out, "Not so good. New tactic. Uhhh…"

"We should probably try to get the rest's attention," Dr. Banner suggested as he got his bearings back. "Get them out of the streets where they're doing damage and out onto the hillside so we can take care of them in the clear." He may not be one for aerial maneuvers, but he did know a thing or two about damage-control and leading pursuing enemies around.

"That's a good idea, I like that idea; let's go with that idea," Tony quickly accessed and decided. "I should have a cluster of charges that'll give us the desired effect… drop 'em when I say when." He steered the suit and aligned it over the rampaging creatures, a safe distance above the deadly horns. He gauged their position. "Alriiight… aaand… _when!_ " he shouted.

"Deploy charges," Bruce requested and several dozen miniature-sized pucks shot out from around his waist and plummeted into the horde of bilgesnipe. Upon contact with the ground the charges went off around the beasts' feet, startling them out of their stampede, roaring and bellowing as they tried to figure out what was responsible for the explosions that had scorched their toes.

"Hey-ohhh!" Tony descended them in front of the creatures, waving Bruce's arms and jeering. "Like that? Those were just the poppers! The real party is up the hill," he hooked his thumb. "You're all invited. I heard there's gonna be some serious fireworks!"

"I don't have to remind you that they can't hear you," Bruce stated flatly.

"I don't have to remind you that you are _sooo_ not any fun," Tony shot back. The bilgesnipe roared and surged forward at them, and Tony took off once again, taking it relatively slow up the cliffs to ensure the monsters could keep up. "So I was thinking," the ghost said far too conversationally for being in the heat of battle, even if this was a temporary lull, "if the cannons are just going to piss them off, concentrated enough laser beam should be able to slice through them."

"You have something like that on here?" Bruce asked. A better question might have been what Tony _didn't_ have on the suit, he realized only after he asked it.

"Yeah, but it eats up energy like nobody's business. We'll want to be sparing." He evaluated their current position on the hill. "Ready for a few more loop-de-loops, doc?"

Did he really have a choice one way or the other? "I haven't thrown up yet," the physicist replied sarcastically.

Tony chuckled. He swept them around and pointed his left fist at the lead beast. "Divert power to my laser pointer of death!"

"Full power to laser," Bruce commanded. A thin red vector shot out from the plating on the gauntlet; it cut a direct vertical plane through the alien, severing it in half. It was kind of gruesome, but undeniably effective. Tony pointed and shot twice more before the remaining bilgesnipe began to panic, seeing what had happened to their brethren. They skattered every which way, leaving the ghost unsure which to follow and take aim at. It was that brief pause in action that left them open to be flanked.

"Tony!" Bruce cried out in alarm, but he'd seen too late-- one of the bilgesnipe took ahold of the suit by the leg with its teeth, slamming the both of them into the ground hard. Despite the protection the armor offered, it still drove the air out of Bruce's lungs, leaving him gasping to get it back. Thankfully, Tony was not phased, immediately throwing out both of Bruce's arms and blasting the creature point-blank in the face. It gave a dying scream from what was left of its head before falling over onto its side with a resounding _thud_.

The spirit picked them from the ground to stand. "You okay, Bruce?" he asked.

The physicist was about to open his mouth to tell Tony he'd suffered a lot worse in the past, when another of the brutes rammed into them from behind. It sent them sprawling, bouncing off the ground a good three times before tumbling to a halt, loose dirt clouding up around them. Okay, _that_ was worse; Bruce gave a soft groan. Tony grit his teeth. "Now that was just uncalled for…" Despite the dull ache now coursing through him, the apparation picked his body up and swiveled on his feet, loosing his hand cannons into the creature that had hit them before it could collide with them a second time. It injured it, but didn't kill it, and he didn't get the chance to finish it off either. Another came from the side, lashing its tail at them; it knocked their combined legs out from under them, face-planting into the ground.

"We have to get back up into the air," Bruce grunted, tasting iron in his mouth and knowing it was blood.

"Working on it!" Tony responded, performing a quick barrel-roll just as a giant foot stomped down to crush them. He rolled back the other direction as another foot came down, getting on their back underneath the creature. "Detonators, detonators!" he exclaimed.

Bruce relayed the command and two small rockets shot out from either shoulder, lodging in the scales of the bilgesnipe's soft underbelly. Tony propelled them out from beneath it as fast as he could, but they still ended up caught in part of the resulting blast. They struck against an outcropping of rocks hard enough to leave a dent in the stone surface. Dr. Banner struggled to see straight, his head pounding. "Bruce?" he heard dully; Tony sounded far away, muddled. "Bruce, buddy, you still with me??" There was panic in his voice. "I need you!"

The internal screen was flashing in warning, showing bilgesnipe charging from ten and two o'clock. The physicist recovered from the verge of unconsciousness none too soon. The ghost latched onto his physical person and rocketed them up into the sky just before two of the beasts converged, slamming into the place where he had been slumped. He didn't stop until they were an absolutely guaranteed safe altitude above the berzerking creatures.

"You scared me down there, Bruce; I couldn't move us… I thought I lost you," Tony said, his voice slightly pinched.

His skull felt like it ought to be split in two. "You almost did," Dr. Banner admitted, strained. The screen updated to display a damage report. The structural integrity had been compromised in several locations and they were running on 54% power. He frowned. They'd only dealt with half of the monsters from space.

The sound of helicopter blades chopped through the air. The helmet display located and zoomed in on the source-- an armada of black helicopters was approaching on the eastern horizon, and all of them bore the same S.H.I.E.L.D. logo. Bruce felt relief wash over him. "Well, about time," Tony mumbled. "What, did they stop for take-out on the way? Sheesh."

"If they did, they better at least share," the physicist grumbled, not too hurt to keep from adding to the bad jokes.

The engineer's ghost chuckled. "I think S.H.I.E.L.D. can be trusted to handle this from here. Let's get you back home." He oriented them towards the house on the shore, taking it slow through the air.

"Just as long as you get me out of this damn thing," Bruce mumbled. "I can't believe you used to fly around in this."

"Yep!" Tony responded with an air of confidence. "The one and only Iron Man!" He gave a long pause, seemingly stumbling upon an epiphany. "Oh my God. I'm Iron Man. _I_ am Iron Man!" If anything the other man sounded even more elated than before. "I may have been a woman-hating jerk, but I saved lives goddamn it!"

Dr. Banner felt himself smile wearily. He was battered and bruised, but he was happy for the ghost. Finally, he knew who he was.


	9. Chapter 9

And, apparently, so did everyone else.

It wasn't long after Tony had flown them back to the beach house that the place swarmed with inquiring reporters and papparazzis, looking to get an interview with the house's new tennant, Dr. Banner. Thankfully, Tony still remembered the passcode to perform a house-wide lock-out, and upon relaying the order, JARVIS had promptly slammed shut over a hundred two-inch thick metal plates over the exterior to keep the pesky (and increasingly violent) persons out.

Bruce adjusted the icepack against his temple with a soft sigh. His head was still pounding from the ordeal he'd gone through, but it was lessening already. He opened an eye to glimpse at the ghost who was watching worriedly from the coffee table on which he was seated cross-legged. "Maybe we should let them in, they might know something about you, give us another lead…" he said.

Tony shook his head. "No go, big guy. You got pretty banged up out there and you need time to recover," he insisted. A second later a smirk warped his face. "Besides, they'll still be there. Trust me."

Bruce chuckled. He supposed Tony was right about that, but he was a little surprised by the other man's patience, considering Tony had been everything _but_ patient before. "Well, we could at least search the news channels in the meantime. The sound of the TV isn't going to bother me."

"You sure?" Tony asked.

He nodded, appreciative of the concern. "Yeah." Dr. Banner reached forward and picked up the remote control sitting beside Tony. With a poke of the power switch, several projection screens flickered to life in front of them, each one flipping to a different channel. Just a little more elaborate than the 15" cathode ray tube he'd had back in Kolkata. It had gotten, what? Eight channels with bunny ears attached? Bruce flipped through until he'd found a promising looking news station that was currently airing footage from the downtown disaster. He turned up the volume.

"--in what was clearly an _outer space attack_." A woman narrated. "Fifteen minutes into the assault, Malibu's own Iron Man arrived on scene--"

Tony leaned forward in his seat, wide-eyed. A shaky camera zoomed in on the bilgesnipe stampaging in the street, only to jerk skyward. It took a moment to focus, and whatever civilian had taken the footage had trouble keeping it in the frame, but the red-and-gold armor shot through the air like a bullet, plume of cloudy smoke trailing out behind it. Beneath the video-feed, the ticker rolled by information on projected casualties and damage reports that were still incoming.

"That's us!" Tony grinned a mile wide, pointing to the screen as it flashed to another reel, this one of the suit deploying the round of charges that had led the creatures away from the city. He bounced on the tabletop, clapping his hands ecstatically. "Look at that! Oh man, we were awesome! I mean, I never doubted we were, but still."

Bruce couldn't help it that the smile was catching. He adjusted the glasses on his nose. "Yeah, we kind of were."

"Not _kind of_ ," Tony sought to correct, "We were _most definitely_ awesome. And I'm not gonna stop sayin' it--"

Bruce shh'd him, waving his hand at the ghost to be quiet so they could listen in to what was now displaying on the television.

"--however, many are asking, _who was it really_ who came to save the day? Sources indicate that Mr. Stark's Malibu dreamhome, where many of his famous 'Iron Man' suits were kept--"

Tony snapped his fingers. "Of course! Stark! How could I forget that??" he exclaimed, slapping his own forehead in a 'no duh!' fashion.

"--was recently purchased by one David Banner--"

Bruce felt his adam's apple bob roughly in his throat as a very old photo of him (from his days working on his Ph.D at Harvard) popped up. There went all of his cover.

"Oh ho, who's that handsome devil?" Tony jabbed-- "I'd really like to meet him!" He really ought to be taking this more seriously.

"--attempts to get in contact with Dr. Banner have thus far been unsuccessful."

He heard some muffled pounding coming from the kitchen window that was currently plated. They were persistent alright. Bruce frowned and flipped the station. This one had a male reporter covering the story.

"--but many are saying it is _impossible_ that this could have been our hero. After suffering an unexpected crash landing three months ago, Tony Stark, aged 43, was admitted into St. Matthew's Hospital--"

Both of their eyes widened then, gaping at the screen. A heavily bandaged Tony was being wheeled out of an ambulance, doctors and nurses running about as reporters swarmed, flashing photos and extending boom mics.

The ghost put a hand to his head. "Oh, God, Bruce… I remember it…" He shook his head from side to side, a slightly horrified look on his features as he grasped at the memory. "I… I didn't run a diagnostic before take-off… I was on my way home, or… or somewhere…" He shut his eyes tightly and he cupped a hand over the center of his chest.

Bruce reached out to put a consoling hand on his shoulder, the gesture phasing through his form only somewhat.

Tony shook his head roughly. "I'm fine." He looked back up to the television. "Shit. Turn it off."

Dr. Banner did as requested the lifted the remote to flick it off.

"--Mr. Stark has been in critical condition--"

Both of them were silent a long moment. This was troubling news as much as it was good news.

"Well, we know who I am and we know where I am," Tony said with summoned bravado.

Bruce nodded and stood. "We should go to the hospital."

Tony jumped up as if to restrain him-- not that he could. "Whoa, you sure? I don't want you to over-burden yourself on my account--"

The physicist chuckled. "I'm fine. I'm feeling a lot better actually." He walked over and tossed the icepack into the sink. Tony's eyebrows both raised, noticing the large bruise that had been formerly purpling the other man's forehead had vanished, as if he had never suffered the blow at all. "The gamma radiation in my blood that turns me into the Hulk also accelerates the regenerative process," Dr. Banner explained. "So my injuries don't last long. And I can't get sick either."

The ghost mouthed a 'Wow.' "That is bad-ass," he grinned. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So then, shall we go?"

"Yeah," Bruce paused, dragging his tongue along the inside of his lip, "though I don't know how exactly we're going to get out."

Tony hooked his thumb with a smirk. "I've got at least one exit those vultures don't know about."

 

They made it out to the hospital just a few minutes later. From the moment they stepped through the automatic doors, Tony's eyes were flitting all around as he turned about in little circles, taking the place and the people inside it in. "I think I remember coming here for an arm I broke once…" he wondered aloud, touching his elbow as if the limb were in a sling. "They have a nice staff anyway. Very attentive. Easy on the eyes…" The apparitional playboy made a wolf-whistle at one of the bustier passing nurses.

Dr. Banner rolled his eyes with an amused chuckle and approached the front desk. "Hi, yeah, I was wondering if Anthony Stark was still undergoing care here?"

The secretary gave him a loathing stare. "Are you another reporter?"

"No, no," Bruce assured, waving his hands out in front of him. "I'm just… I'm just a friend," he explained. The ghost beside him smiled softly upon delivery of the words. Dr. Banner adjusted his glasses. "I was wondering if I could have a visitation?"

The woman scrutinzed him a moment more, as if detemining he was telling the truth. "Hold on a moment, let me talk to someone," she replied. She picked up the phone beside her and depressed one of the buttons. Bruce took to wringing his hands, while Tony anxiously nibbed his lower lip and bounced on his heels beside him. Finally the secretary put down the phone. "I'm going to have to ask you to go to the third-floor nurses' station."

"Oh, alright," the physicist agreed, a little surprised but he wouldn't question it. He and spirit moved for the elevator.

When they got there, Tony drew in a gasp. "Oh my God! Rhodey!"

"Someone you recognize?" Bruce leaned in to inquire quietly.

Tony nodded exuberantly. "Yeah! He's a colonel in the Marines. He and I go way back; Stark Industries has been supplying the U.S. forces since forever. Kinda surprised he's here though…"

The aforementioned man was striding towards him; Bruce straightened up as he approached. "Dr. Banner?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Bruce confirmed, extending a hand.

The colonel took it firmly. "James Rhodes, serviceman for the United States Marines."

"Nice to meet you," Bruce was sure to nod as he took his hand away.

"You were inquiring about Tony Stark?" His brown eyes were hard, but slightly glossy.

Dr. Banner briefly exchanged glances with the ghost beside him. "Yeah, that's right."

"A lot of people have been," Rhodes said sternly; Bruce had to conclude that the reason the decorated armyman was here was to keep the rabble from reaching the world famous innovator and scientist and stirring up a lot of unnecessary dust. "Before you can be allowed to proceed, I need to know your relationship with him."

Tony snapped his fingers quickly. "Tell him you're my lab partner. He won't be able to let you through unless he knows we're involved professionally."

Bruce straightened his spectacles. "We worked together on projects."

Rhodey's forehead crinkled, though not in an aggressive manner. "What do you mean?"

"You know," Bruce motioned awkwardly, "associates. Colleages--"

"I know what you mean," Rhodes interrupted. He let out a difficult sigh. "I just… I have a hard time believing that."

"Why?" Bruce and Tony simultaneously inquired, though of the two of them, of course Rhodey could only hear Bruce.

The serviceman stood looking somewhat forlorn. "Tony's whole life was his work. I don't know of a single person he ever trusted to work with him."

All three men stood silent a long moment, the sentiment sinking in. Bruce glanced over at Tony who was looking somewhat vulnerable, his arms hugged about his middle and avoiding eye-contact. Tony rubbed his goatee and didn't say a word. Had the other scientist always worked alone? Bruce wondered. What had kept him from finding someone to work with? Surely he could have gotten just about anyone. From what Bruce had seen these past couple weeks, Tony was eager for companionship and someone who understood him on an intellectual level. There were questions buzzing through his head, but Bruce kept them to himself for the moment, offering an explanation to the colonel. "It was a fairly recent contract. We'd just been getting started."

"Why didn't you come sooner?"

"I… I was away for awhile on a business trip," Bruce reached up to rub the back of his neck.

Rhodes nodded and turned about-face. "Alright. Well he's this way." The two of them followed him down the hall.

 

The colonel excused himself for Dr. Banner's privacy once they arrived at the room where Tony was being kept under intensive care. Bruce reached for the door handle, pausing with his hand on it to exchange glances with the ghost beside him, making sure he was ready for what they might encounter on the other side. Tony gave a firm nod, and with held breath, they stepped inside.

It was definitely one of the nicer rooms the hospital had to offer to patients. It was clean and well-maintained. Natural light flooded in from the two large panel windows, the blinds drawn up to let sunlight in rather than depending only upon the fluorescents overhead. Spacious, with ample furnishings-- a couple of armchairs for visitors to sit comfortably, a large flatscreen television mounted on the wall, and a large table which had been covered in countless gifts from grieving admirers… flowers, candies, balloons, well-wishing cards. And lying in the hospital bed was the spitting image of the phantom standing beside him… Tony Stark. His eyes were shut, mouth closed, arms rested to either side of his body in peaceful, undisturbed slumber.

"It's you…" Bruce breathed out almost disbelievingly. He walked forward, stopping at the edge of the bed. He stared a moment longer at his friend's physical embodiment before glancing at the respirator and instruments to which he was hooked up, watching the line of his pulse go by on the monitor in short upward spikes. "You're alive… just like Coulson said. But…" he faltered.

"But what?" Tony asked worriedly, going around to the other side. He gripped the bed rails in his phantom fingers anxiously.

The physicist shook his head-- he didn't know how to tell his friend this. "You're alive but… you're in a coma, Tony."

"Well… so?" the ghost shrugged, "That's way better than _dead_ , right? I mean, we can just wake me up."

Bruce wet his lips, wringing his hands. "The news station said you were admitted three months ago. If you're still here after all this time… that's a persistent coma."

Tony blinked. He looked down at himself. "But… everything's healing up from the accident…" he spoke like he didn't want to believe it, "I don't see any scars… Can't we do something…?" There was a pleading tone in his voice.

Bruce reached up to rub the back of his head. "We can try," he said, trying not to lose hope despite what the logic of his mind was telling him. Science couldn't explain the presence of the ghost in front of him, so maybe, by some kind of miracle, the man could be woken from his coma as well. Dr. Banner pursed his lips. "Maybe we just need to reunite your spirit and corporeal forms…" he wondered aloud, meshing his fingers in gesture.

Tony snapped his fingers. "Great! Fantastic idea!" he proclaimed to the suggestion. He propped his tongue in the corner of his mouth and hopped into the bed. He laid down in the same configuration as his physical form, wriggling himself into it as if to get comfy.

The heart rate monitor beside him began to speed up; Bruce's eyebrows lifted and eyes widened. "Tony, I think it's working!" he relayed excitedly.

"Really??" the ghost sat up in sudden elation, only to find that he was sitting in his prone clone. "Damnit," he groused, throwing himself onto his back once more to try again.

"Really focus," the physicist urged, "like you did on me when you made me move those two times. Grab on and don't let go."

"I'm tryyying!" Tony whined through grit teeth, clenching his eyes shut and trying to recreate the sensation he'd felt controlling the other scientist. He sat up again a few seconds later in a huff. "It's not working. It's like… it's like I'm no longer connected to this body," Tony tried to explain with exasperation. His eyes widened suddenly, mouth falling open when he spied a glance over at the gifts on the windowsill. "Bruce!" The apparation leapt to his feet and the other man's eyebrow tweaked in confusion. "Bruce, this is it! This is my arc reactor! That I was telling you about?" he pointed to a glass box on the sill. "Er… or accusing you of stealing, rather." He gave a sheepish cough.

Dr. Banner came over to get a closer look. Inside the trophy box was an apparatus very similar to the unit he'd seen embedded in chestplate of the Mach VI suit he'd been flying around in just a couple hours prior. Cylindrical, metal. Electromagnetic coils were wound around the inside to create a path for the nuclear energy to travel in a circle. The device was fixed to a small pedestal which had been engraved with wording. "What does…?" he began to question.

"Kind of a long story," Tony answered. "But it goes in the cavity in my chest… here, see…" He pulled up his band tee and exposed his torso unabashedly for the other man to take a look.

Understanding began to light up behind the doctor's eyes. "Wait, but if…" He strode back over to the Tony on the bed, pulling away his nightgown to look underneath; the engineer peered over his shoulder. The socket was empty just like the ghost's, devoid of the reactor-- in its place was an electrical wiring hook-up which led to a car battery sitting on one of the rolling equipment tables.

"Well no _wonder_ I'm not waking up," the spirit scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I mean, hello, no duh!" He tilted his head momentarily. "I guess the one I had in me at the time of the crash must've gotten irrepairably damaged…" he looked back at the trophy, "that one, well, it's version 1.0. I built that thing in a cave while I was being held hostage."

Bruce frowned and went to grab the trophy on the sill. "You think we just need to… re-install this?" he asked uncertainly.

The ghost bobbed his head. "Well it couldn't hurt. Sure better than running on a twelve volt clunker." He kicked his phantom foot through the large battery.

Nipping at the inside of his lip, Dr. Banner first removed the glass casing surrounding the reactor, setting it aside. He curled and uncurled his fingers once before taking ahold of the device, plucking it out, being very careful with each and every one of his movements. He went over to the comatose man and removed the wires currently powering his friend's body loose and inserted the cylinder into the casing. A ninety-degree twist was all it took to click it into place-- it lit up vibrant blue for just a few fleeting instants before giving a spluttering flicker and going dead again. He frowned.

Beside him the ghost gave a little gasping breath, clutching his front. His mouth twisted and he curled his hand into a fist, striking it against his chest as he coughed.

"You felt that…?" Bruce questioned.

"Y-yeah…" Tony nodded with a stammer. "B-but the reactor… it's not… functional any more. It's all used up."

The physicist was nodding but his brain was elsewhere. If he could make a new one, or modify the one in the suit, maybe it would be enough to jolt his friend's body back to consciousness… "It has told us one thing though," he determined. "You're still connected to your body. We can still figure this ou--" He was interrupted by the door opening again, and he hurriedly turned round to block the view of the bed from the threshold.

"Dr. Banner?" Rhodey spoke, "I'm sorry, but I have an appointment and I can't leave you here unattended."

"I, um… can I have a couple more minutes, if it's not too much trouble?" Bruce requested. He motioned lamely with his arm. "I'm saying goodbye."

The colonel looked at the floor supplicatory. "Yeah, of course." He shut the door again. Bruce turned back to remove the inoperative reactor.

"Ugh… poor guy looks miserable…" Tony mumbled remorsefully as he watched the physicist re-wire the chest cavity on his physical duplicate. He stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and sighed, looking back at the table of gifts. "Seems like I've worried a lot of people… and all because I was being stupid and reckless. Like usual."

Dr. Banner placed the reactor back on its pedestal and put the glass back over it. He wet his lips. "This really is absolutely incredible technology…" he murmured aloud, hoping to get his friend's mind off things. He turned the reactor about in its case to view it from all angles, still admiring its many intricacies. It was just so… _tiny_ for a nuclear reactor. It was almost unthinkable that it really _worked_.

The ghost chuckled, mouth twisting into a little smile. "Pep must have brought it over. It's funny, I told her just to scrap it, but instead she had this done to it so I could keep it as a momento."

Bruce didn't know who 'Pep' was, but he hummed as he drug his thumb across the enscription 'Proof that Tony Stark has a Heart'. "She must have seen something special inside you." He glanced up to catch eyes with his phantom friend.

"Eh, I've never really been the sentimental type; it's just been collecting dust," the ghost scuffed the soles of his shoes on the linoleum self-consciously-- the words seemed a bold-faced lie even as he continued to try to hide them. "It did save my life once before though." He rubbed the back of his neck, brown eyes verging on tears. "Too bad it couldn't again…"

The physicist swallowed, even more determined to attempt recreating a new model for the ghost of a man beside him. "We should probably get back to the lab," he advised, not wanting the colonel to have to ask him to leave more than once.

Tony shook his head harshly, as if coming out of deep thought. "Oh. Oh right, yeah. The lab…" He blinked again. "I dunno, maybe you should go on without me. I mean, I'll wanna be here in case…" he seemed to search a moment for a suitable excuse, "in case I wake up, or something."

The choice startled the other man. "Are you sure you don't want to come back with me? It's _your_ lab…" Bruce emphasized. He couldn't hardly conceptualize Tony not following along on his heels everywhere.

Tony's expression metamorphisized into a charming, reassuring smile. "Nah. You go on. You've got lots of your own research to catch up on. Thanks for helping me out, big guy. It was fun." He extended his hand for a handshake.

Uncertainly Bruce stepped forward and reached to take his friend's hand in his own, despite the impossibility. For a fleeting instant it almost felt like their hands stuck… like the grasp had been real… Tony retracted his hand and turned on his heel to hide the confliction splayed across his face, giving a quick sniff through his nostrils. Bruce opened his mouth.

Rhodes entered the room once more. "Dr. Banner, I have to escort you out now."

The nuclear physicist sighed. "Goodbye, Tony," he spoke to the apparation. He grabbed the trophy off the gift table.

Tony turned back around as he heard the door shut. He shut his eyes. "Bye, Bruce…" he whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

Maybe some part of him had been hoping that Bruce would get halfway to the parking lot and turn right back around, march back up to the third floor and demand Tony come back with him to the lab. Maybe he'd thought that after spending so much time together, Bruce would want to spend more together, even if Tony could never be whole or solid or able to operate heavy machinery ever again.

But maybe that had been pretty stupid.

Bruce was gone, and now Tony was alone with himself. Like, literally. He was staring at his body laid out on the hospital bed. It was just he and himself. Lazy, worthless good-for-nothing; Tony grumbled.

After awhile he decided to take a stroll around the hospital, if for no other reason than to give his limbs something to do. He phased through the door to his hospital room and turned to wander aimlessly down the hall past rooms with other patients in them. Rhodes was still around, he noticed. The colonel was talking with one of his junior officers. Tony couldn't help but overhear.

"This just ain't fair…" Rhodey shook his head. "He finally finds someone to work with, and then…" he trailed off.

"That guy looked really smart too."

The colonel nodded. "Not many folks could keep up with Tony intellectually. I guess at least he got a chance to collaborate with someone for a little while; woulda been a damn shame if he'd gone his whole life always working alone."

Tony felt his eyes begin to water. He stared at the sterile linoleum beneath his feet and turned a 180°, hastening away in the opposite direction.

He'd gotten to a lobby by the time he finally looked up again, and when he did he caught the telltale drone of another familiar voice, one he would have been just as happy to have forgotten-- Justin Hammer. The television was flipped to a news station, and the weapons contractor was being interviewed by some talk show host or another. "Well without Stark Industries, someone's gonna have to step up to the plate for the security of the nation," the horn-rimmed glasses-wearing man explained, though not particularly well. "That's simple 'supply and demand'-- Hammer Industries intends to fill that demand with its supply."

Tony felt himself scowl. "Guess you got my job…" he muttered.

"Oh yeah," Hammer continued in response to whatever the host had said, "About time. Hammer Industries has always had to operate in the shadow of Stark Industries-- but now some of our best stuff is gonna be seeing the light of day. It's gonna be revolutionary."

Tony gave a snort. "Doubtful. Even with competition you couldn't come up with a worthwhile functioning piece of hardware."

"And this isn't the only front Hammer Industries is expanding on," Justin went on. "We're working on some solid sustainable energy solutions; I had a meeting with Dr. Walsh of ABI Energy Inc. just this morning…"

"Jesus Christ!" Tony exclaimed, gesturing angrily, "Would someone _please_ turn this drivel off??" The staff and patients, however, only continued about their business, passing clipboards around and flipping through magazines, his complaint unheard.

Tony gave a dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping. The front doors to the hospital wooshed open and the clicking of high heels drew his attention. Tony's eyes widened as they travelled up the long pair of freckled legs to where they disappeared into the pencil skirt of a business suit. "Pepper??" Tony gawked. Holy wow was she a sight for sore eyes. Without thinking, he rushed up to her. "Pep!" he began to embrace her when she simply stepped right through him. His heart sank temporarily. "Oh… I guess you can't see me either…" he realized.

Close behind the woman was her personal bodyguard, Happy Hogan, and the two robots Tony had built when he was a student at MIT, DUM-E and U. They moved through the lobby towards the check-in counter; Tony followed along. "So what are you guys doing here, anyway? Are you… are you coming to visit me?" he questioned.

"Here to visit Mr. Stark," Pepper said to the woman behind the desk.

"Of course, come right in."

"You are!" the innovator almost leapt for joy, "You guys are the best. I mean it. I mean, even though you can't see me, it's still sweet. I mean, you can see the me up in the hospital bed, but not the me right here," he continued to correct himself, but not with any loss of enthusiasm.

DUM-E gave a happy twitter in response, bobbing his arm up and down. The unit wheeled forward and set its pinchers on his shoulder affectionately. Tony cocked his head to the side and blinked. "Wait, can you…?" he started, but Pepper interrupted.

"DUM-E, _come on_ ," she insisted, motioning towards the elevator. "If you get lost, I'm going to let the hospital keep you and use you as an portable defibrillator. Don't think I won't." The robot whined out a high note and fell in. Tony felt himself chuckle at the exchange (even with a new owner, DUM-E was still catching the same old crap as always) and he followed the three of them along to the elevator and up to the third floor. Rhodey gave her a wave as she went by and she returned it.

Happy stepped forward to get the door for her, holding it open. She thanked him for the courtesy and stepped inside. "Yeah, thanks," Tony added as he too entered the room. Once DUM-E and U rolled themselves in, Happy followed suit and shut the door behind him for their privacy.

And just like that, Pepper's business-like attitude dropped. She bit her lip and rushed to Tony's bedside, plucking one of his hands up from where it had been lying at his side. Gingerly she pressed the back of his hand to her cheek, shutting her eyes.

Tony blinked, feeling wetness pool in the corner of one of his eyes. Hastilly he wiped it away with a thumb. “C’mon now, Pep… don’t be sad…” he said, crouching down beside her and wishing she could hear him. He gave a melancholic chuckle, “Really, you should be mad at me. Stock prices have probably plummetted…”

A knock on the door kept him from trying to console her further. Happy opened it to reveal the physician in charge of him. Well other him. Persistent coma him. “Ms. Potts. Sorry to interrupt; could I have a word?” he inquired.

The businesswoman stood, straightening herself and her composure. “Of course.” She stepped out into the threshold. Tony followed, interested in and not a little suspicious of what the guy had to say.

The doctor cleared his throat. “First of all, I hope to impress upon you how much we’ve dedicated ourselves to Mr. Stark. Because of his previous generosity and heroism, we’ve taken some pretty extraordinary measures to give him the best care possible and make him feel comfortable these last three months…”

“Well, I’d hope,” Tony scoffed.

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Pepper began, “It’s very apprieci— DUM-E! Turn it back!” Tony blinked, swivelling around only to see the robot had pressed the switch to sit his coma-self up in bed. “U, watch your brother,” she instructed exasperatedly to the other bot, which proceeded to lightly whomp the first and return the bed back to its former reclined state. “Sorry,” Pepper directed her attention back to the physician, “Please, go on.”

The doctor exhaled roughly. “This is hard to say. Did you know your boyf… your _boss’s_ opinion about artificially prolonging life?”

Tony felt his stomach drop and his adrenaline rush.

Pepper wet her thin lips. “No,” she responded.

“He was against it.”

“You’re… you’re kidding me,” Pepper’s brow drew down with incredulty.

“I know it might seem odd considering his… previous condition,” the doctor went on, “but it _is_ documented on his release form. Keeping shrapnel away from his heart with the arc reactor and being fed through a tube in a vegetative state are two _very_ different things. Mr. Stark knew that.”

“Listen,” Tony put up his hands, stepping between the two of them. He gestured with his hands, “That was before. This is now. And I’ve definitely, _most_ definitely, changed my mind now. So if I could just see that form…”

Pepper glanced desperately back at the inventor lying in the hospital bed. “But there’s still brain activity, isn’t there?” she said to the doctor.

“Tons of it!” Tony piped in, as if to somehow prove it to the physician. “I mean, look at me! I’m Tony Stark! Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. That’s like… _four times_ the brain activity of the average individual, coma or no!”

The phsyician’s tone was apologetic, “Unfortunately there is nothing to indicate Mr. Stark will ever come out of his coma.”

“I am indicating it! Right now!” Tony was practically hopping up and down in the doctor’s face.

Pepper was staring down at her feet. “Due to the special situation without any next of kin, we won’t take any terminal action without your explicit approval,” the doctor went on. “Now, I’ve prepared the necessary paperwork…” he held out the document.

“Whoa, buddy, relax, okay??” Tony spluttered. He turned back to the redhead. “Pep, don’t sign that! I’m here, okay? I’m here, honey.” He reached out to put his hands on her shoulders.

“If you decide to sign—“ the doctor began.

“I’ll think about it,” Pepper spoke tersely, snatching the documents from the practitioner.

“Pep!” Tony pled, “I swear, I’ll spend more time with you! I’ll take you out more often. I’ll… I’ll even show up to my business meetings on time!”

“I know it must be hard, but sometimes it’s best to acknowledge what the patient— what Mr. Stark would have wanted…”

“I _said_ I’d think about it,” Pepper snapped. She spun on her heel. DUM-E and U followed, with Happy trailing the rear, who was sure to give the doctor a glare on his way past.

Tony let out a relieved sigh. Dodged the bullet on that one. At least for now. “Thanks, Pep. You always looked out for me,” he whispered, admiration and gratitude swelling within him as he watched the closest to what he had as a family leave the hospital.


	11. Chapter 11

The drive back from the hospital was a quiet one. He considered, once or twice, turning the radio on; though he had no interest in listening. He’d never been one to listen to FM radio, but he knew that the man he’d left behind would’ve flipped to the rock n’ roll station before he even put the car into gear. As he pulled into the long weaving driveway that led up to the mansion, he noticed the paparazzi had finally moved on to different prospects once evening had fallen, which was a relief, but left the place seeming like a ghosttown— minus the ghost.

Bruce huffed a light sigh as he proceeded inside, immediately heading down to the lab, not even stopping in the kitchen to put his usual kettle of water on the stovetop to heat. He looked around, first left, then right. “You here?” he asked the chamber of the laboratory, almost expecting that if he turned round, there would be the inventor to make a snarky ‘Where else would I be?’ or another remark. Bruce bit the inside of his mouth. “I guess not…” he murmured, a little surprised at the level of disappointment he felt knowing that he was now truly alone. The way he’d _thought_ he wanted it.

He wandered over to the bookcase, carefully placing the trophy case that held the arc reactor on the middle shelf. He let his fingers skim down the corner of the glass, intently studying the piece of hardware inside. As much as he wanted to attempt to recreate it, he knew he didn’t have the means to do so. He was a gamma radiation expert, not a nuclear engineer. And he didn’t have a single schematic or diagram to go off of beyond taking it apart and hoping he could put the pieces back together again. He’d helped Tony out as much as he could. The man had even thanked him. It was time to forget what had happened and go back to his own work. Finding a cure for the Hulk.

Bruce turned, flipping on the atomic absorption spectrometer as he went by on instinct. A soft chuckle left his lips, shaking his head before going back to flick it off. No reason to have it on until he had more samples ready. Tony wouldn’t want it to overheat.

Tony.

His eyes closed. He hadn’t expected it to be this rough. He’d left behind plenty of things and people over the years, but somehow that never made it any easier. And working in Tony’s laboratory _without_ Tony…

A scuffling noise from upstairs reached his ears, drawing his eyes back open and his brow down. Was someone in the mansion? Dr. Banner put the microplate down and warily climbed the stairs. When he got to the living room, his eyebrows shot up. A man with short, dirty-blond hair, dressed in a faded maroon t-shirt and jeans was removing a rappelling harness from his lower half.

Bruce stepped forward. “Who are you? How did you get in here?”

The other man didn’t seem even remotely alarmed that he’d been caught. Or maybe he hadn’t been trying to not get caught and that was why he wasn’t alarmed. “Name’s Clint. Clint Barton,” the stranger introduced. He pointed one finger upward. “And wouldn’t you know it, you left one of your skylights on the roof open.” He tossed the gear and rope aside, removing his fingerless gloves.

The doctor wet his lips carefully, “Are you a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Mr. Barton?”

“Clint, I said.” He paused after the correction, focusing his blue eyes on him and shrugging a shoulder in a blasé manner. “Yeah, I work for them.”

“So they sent you to spy on me,” Bruce concluded.

“Spying and negotiations are more Nat’s deal,” Barton answered, beginning to stroll the living room of the mansion, eyes flicking up, down, all around. “Intelligence tells me you two are already well acquainted. Nah, I’m their sniper; they send me in when they need to get rid of someone.” He looked back at Bruce again, “No need to get your heartrate up— I’m not here to assassinate you either. I’m here on my off-time. Gotta say though, it was pretty impressive what you managed to do with Stark’s suit this afternoon.”

“So you know about that. _S.H.I.E.L.D._ knows about that,” Bruce could feel the Hulk stirring up his defenses, ready to smash this unwanted intruder.

“Did I say that?” Clint asked, swivelling about. “I haven’t made my report. Sometimes I like to do a little of my own reconnaissance first before I get involved with things… get to know my assignment.”

“There’s nothing for you to know,” Bruce was insistent, his next words more of a threat than a request. “I need you to leave.”

“Sure thing. Back door’s this way, right?” Clint more said than asked, spritely moving down the stairs toward the laboratory.

Bruce felt his hackles raise, about to descend after the agent and throw him out by force if need be, when movement flashed in his periphery. He double-taked. “Anthony!” he exclaimed upon seeing the apparition standing beside him.

“Hey,” the inventor returned, somewhat lackluster.

Clint momentarily forgotten, the doctor continued, “I didn’t think you were going to come back here. Didn’t you say you were planning to stay at the hospital with your body?” He was thrilled as much as he was flabbergasted the other scientist had chosen to come back.

“Yeah, well, I was,” Tony mumbled, wishy-washy. He rubbed the back of his neck. “But I needed someone to talk to. The staff there is trying to get Pep to sign papers authorizing permission to take me off life support.”

Dr. Banner gawked. “Already? But it’s only been three months, how could they—?”

“I signed a release form,” the innovator mumbled. “Poor foresight, I know. I’d take it back now, obviously, but no one at the hospital could hear me. It’s a miracle they haven’t taken me off sooner, considering.”

His brain was whirling in search of a solution. “Hey, where’d you put the suit?” Clint called up the stairs, interrupting his train of thought.

Tony’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, that didn’t take very long,” he snorted.

Bruce blinked. “What didn’t take very long?”

“Just _who_ is he?” Tony demanded, pointing a finger down the laboratory stairs where the voice had come from.

Bruce frowned. “He’s a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

“A _S.H.I.E.L.D._ agent?!” Tony repeated, stepping forward; Bruce stepped back.

“Is there some kind of secret panel you have to open to reveal it or something…?” There was the sound of knuckles wrapping against the walls downstairs, searching out hollow spots.

“He wasn’t invited…” the doctor began.

“You don’t have to try and explain it, Bruce. I get it,” Tony’s voice took an accusatory note. “I was out of the picture, most likely permanently, so, obviously, the next step was to sell off my tech to the nearest friendly government agency! Functional design like that… hey, oughta fetch a few grand, right?”

“That’s… that’s not at all what’s going on here,” Bruce got out, more than a little insulted by the claim. “He _broke_ in. I was about to throw him out when you got here.”

“Really?” Tony folded his arms. “So then just _why_ are you letting him snoop around down there as much as he pleases?”

It was the doctor’s turn to step forward. “I don’t know, maybe because I’m busy having this pointless argument with you. S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t my friend, Tony. You _know_ that. They hound me, send people to ‘check up on me’ every other day like I’m some kind of bomb just waiting to go off! And you think I’d sell your life’s work to them??”

Clint appeared on the stairwell. “You talkin’ to someone up here, Banner?” He glanced left and right to confirm there was no one but the two of them. “Do you take medication? I didn’t see ‘hallucination’ in your records but—“

“I told you to _leave_ ,” Bruce growled lowly, eyes glowing green.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Clint put up his hands defensively. “I’m going.” He grabbed his gear swiftly and moved for the front door. Bruce followed on his heels every step of the way, but was caught off-guard when the agent swivelled on the doorstep, putting his palm out to catch the door Bruce had been about to slam in his face. “Listen, I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t’ve broken in the way I did,” Clint apologized, “I realize now I probably could’ve knocked on the door. You just have to understand it isn’t really my style. Thing is, sometimes S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t always make the right call about people. I wanted to access you myself. Get to know you.” The man shrugged. “People like you and me… we get isolated. We don’t have anyone.” Clint shook his head. “Sorry for bothering you, Dr. Banner.” With that, the agent turned and left.

Bruce huffed, shutting the door. Tony was looking at the ground guiltily. “I think I owe you an apology,” the apparition said, “I… jumped to conclusions—“

“It’s fine,” the doctor said dismissively. He half-folded, half-hugged his arms and left them there. “It’s your life’s work. Being protective of it and a little paranoid is understandable. I would be too.” He moved past the spirit, going towards the outdoor patio.

Tony nodded, watching the doctor’s body language as he followed him outside. “Bruce… what that guy said, about being isolated…”

“He’s not wrong,” Bruce murmured, staring out at the darkened sea in front of them. “I haven’t really worked with anyone else since… well since the accident that made me into…” he gestured his hand limply and sighed again, letting it fall onto the handrail. Quietly, he began again as if reliving the memory, “Betty and I were the ones tasked to work on the super soldier serum. We’d done a lot of tests. We’d thought we had it.” His head dropped, “I was the test subject.”

“Risky move, but I’m betting you didn’t have a whole lot of other willing participants,” Tony mumbled.

“I was exposed to gamma radiation. It started to go wrong. I couldn’t do anything once the transformation started to take place…” the doctor went on. “It was like I was watching from inside a glass jar… watching as the Hulk tore the entire laboratory apart with his hands— _my_ hands.” Bruce closed his eyes, shuddering. “Betty survived, thank God. Though she was hospitalized for a few weeks while she recovered from her injuries.” He frowned and looked away. “After that I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her or anyone else. I couldn’t risk having that happen again.”

Tony listened sadly. “Tell me more about her; what was she like?” he prompted.

The doctor chuckled, pausing to look up at the night sky in his own chagrin that he was talking about this. “Oh you know, she was like any lab partner. Had her own particular way of doing things. She was actually a fair amount like you.”

Tony snorted disbelievingly. “Seriously?”

“In a way, yeah,” Bruce nodded, looking down at his hands. “For instance, she liked playing music in the lab— jazz mostly— for hours on end; the same songs over and over and over until they were permanently fused into your brain. She wouldn’t create digital records of her work. It was impossible for her,” he shook his head. “And this stubborn inability to clean microplates. She would just leave them around until there were no clean ones left and workdesk was cluttered into a completely unmanageable condition, bordering on a biohazard. I mean, I’m so…” he bit his lip, coming down from his rant very suddenly. “I’m mad just thinking… about her…” he whispered, eyes watering.

“Bruce…” Tony got out, wishing he could pat the guy on the back.

The physicist drug the back of his hand across his eyes. “This Pep you’ve been mentioning… she wouldn’t really sign those papers, would she?”

Tony swallowed, roughly. “I don’t know,” he answered uncertainly, taking to staring out at the ocean himself. He knew the woman was stubborn but not to the point of belligerence. “I hope not.” He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Not that it really matters if real-me doesn’t wake up soon; my brain activity’s decreasing every day I’m in that hospital bed.”

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Bruce teased light-heartedly, “You’re kind of a know-it-all.”

Tony chuckled, throwing an elbow into the other man with good humor. “Pretend you don’t like it, big guy.”

Bruce couldn’t. He smiled, quite genuinely. “I don’t want you to think I’ve always been like this. Only working for myself, by myself. More than anything I want to help other people.”

“That so?” Tony asked, interested in this aspect of the doctor he didn’t know.

The physicist nodded, turning for the lab. “C’mon. I want to show you something.”


End file.
